


Hurricane Year

by a_dangerous_sociopath



Series: Storm Warning [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Gods and Goddesses, Kidnapping, M/M, Mermaids, Non-Consensual Kissing, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 104,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dangerous_sociopath/pseuds/a_dangerous_sociopath
Summary: Last year Mark Fischbach disappeared for a week with no explanation. He returned eventually and never bothered to discuss what had happened. All questions to that point were deflected or ignored.This year, he would disappear again, this time for months, without a word to anyone. Is he gone for good? Is he dead?What's going on?





	1. Say Amen (It's Saturday Night)

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably pre-face this entire fanfic by making a note here. You'll notice that I've left a lot of the warning tags kind of, well, blank. There's a reason for this. But those reasons are also... kind of... spoilery. I can't exactly divulge where this thing is going and give you guys a heads up about it without giving away the entire premise. Shit's going down in this one, guys, and though I think people are going to get what's going on pretty quick here (I am in no way sly nor am I good at keeping secrets) I would like to keep that information to myself for now. So just be aware you guys. This fic may end up dealing with subject matter that is a little bit squicky to some people. If you go past this point, you're doing so at you're own risk. With that in mind, I will say that this fic isn't about to be as dark as the last one, but it's still got some questionable shit in it.

Mark glanced up at the knock on his office door. It had been going on for a while, but it took a quiet lull in the game for him to hear, and he grimaced when he realized.

 

“Hey, get in here.”

 

Mark turned in his chair towards the door as it was pushed open. At this point he was so familiar with the man that he knew he didn't have to get up. He just smiled, set his headphones aside, and leaned back a bit in his chair.

 

“Hey Milo.”

 

It had been just over a year since the two of them had officially met, and so far, they'd settled into a routine that had been turning rather domestic. Mark had originally asked for Milo to stay a couple of days, just until he could get back into a routine. A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks, turned into months. At this point Mark considered him officially moved in. Milo would disappear from time to time, whenever Mark had company or a friend was over helping him to work on stuff. But he usually came back when the place was cleared out. This week, though, Milo had been gone on ‘family business.’ Family business that he almost didn’t attend, because he was still kind of uncomfortable with leaving Mark alone for an extended period of time. Mark pretty much had to shove him out the door to get him to go.

 

Things had calmed down a lot after they’d trapped Bael. They’d had a few run ins with people who maybe weren’t to happy with how things had gone down, but it had been months since anyone had tried anything with Mark, and he was finally beginning to feel like he could operate normally again. So he’d had no problems on insisting on Milo going on this family trip.

 

“Are you…” Milo began to ask, gesturing to the rest of the room. Mark smirked a little at the way Milo hovered in the doorway. It was like he thought that as soon as he entered the room the camera was going to be focused on him, instead of the direction the camera was turned to. They were still making baby steps in helping Milo to understand various technologies, but every so often he still did something that Mark thought was kind of cute.

 

“I’m recording, but no one’s like, watching me right now, I’m not streaming.” he said for Milo’s benefit.

 

Milo nodded, looking relieved, and took a step into the room. “So you’re saying you can edit this out later, then, right?” He clarified, and Mark laughed. It was just kind of funny to him. After all this time, Milo was kind of his best known secret. His mother and friends knew he was dating, and further, knew he was dating a guy, but Mark had never bothered to formally introduce Milo to anyone, or even take his picture for them. Not that he didn’t have a multitude of pictures of Milo, by now. (The ones he took while Milo was sleeping were the ones that annoyed him most, and hence, they were Mark’s favorites.) He just hadn’t shared them yet. It was something he was considering, eventually. It was just, there were still a lot of questions surrounding how exactly they had met that Mark wasn’t really sure how to go about answering, yet. He’d always deflected those questions. And while he had kind of dealt with everything to the point where it didn’t bother _him_ anymore, he knew the people who cared about him would certainly take issue with it, and Mark kind of just didn’t want to deal. He knew about all the (honestly justified) second guessing they’d be doing, because he knew he’d do the same if it was one of his friends or family members that just up and disappeared and came back with a killer boyfriend. And Milo didn’t exactly have the most patient personality, so he knew that wouldn’t help anything. His fans, on the other hand, only knew that Mark was dating. And that was it.

 

No one knew what happened to him during the week that he was missing, and frankly, he was looking to keep it that way.

 

“Yeah, I can edit this out later.” He promised, and Milo looked a lot more relaxed, finally moving into the room. Immediately, Milo stepped around the desk, pushing Mark and the chair back a little with his foot to make a little room for himself. Mark grinned, sitting up a bit as Milo moved in, bending in low to slide a hand along Mark’s cheek, into his hair, gripping it hard as the man leaned in to kiss him, effectively pinning Mark to his chair. Mark gripped the arms and let Milo have his way. He was coming in so hot and heavy he knew the other man had to be letting off a little steam. Spending the week with his family probably just wound him up, Mark understood how some of them could be. (Apparently, Milo’s mother just _hated_ him, and considering that he’s never actually met the woman, he honestly couldn’t tell why.) Fortunately, Mark had gotten to be kind of an expert when it came to dealing with Milo’s stresses. He knew all the right ways to help him take the pressure off.

 

When he was done, Milo hovered close to him, gently parting Mark’s thighs and kneeling down between them. He rested his elbows on Mark’s knees, looking up to him with a fond look on his face. Mark noticed that Milo had braided his hair for him, and that made him smile. He always thought it looked good on him. Milo had kind of a boyish face, and he liked the way the man’s longish bangs framed him when the rest of his hair was tied back. Mark reached out, gently tangling his fingers in the other man’s inky black strands. “How’d the family reunion go?” he asked.

 

Milo snorted at that, looking up to Mark. “Please. It was more like a business meeting.” he said. “I did get a lot of questions about you, though.” He said. “Oh… and actually, I have a gift for you.” Milo said, sinking back a bit on his haunches so that he could dig through his jacket’s pockets.

 

“You got me a gift?” Mark asked him, and Milo shook his head.

 

“Not me.” Milo replied with a sound that almost sounded like a snort. “I gift you with my presence nearly daily. No, this is from my great-grandfather.” he said.

 

“Right, how could I forget.” Mark grinned a bit. He was so fond of the arrogant bastard. “Which great-grandfather is this?” He asked, wondering a little if he should maybe be worried, watching as Milo searched for the gift in question.

 

“You know.” Milo said, as he finally pulled something out of his breast pocket. He had it cupped very carefully in his hand, like he was carrying something very fragile. “The important one.”

 

“Right. The one who’s the…” Mark said, continuing to try and clarify, when Milo opened his hand and revealed a small pendant, attached to a long leather cord. When he saw the symbol on the silver looking pendant, it became quickly obvious who the gift was from. Etched into the side of it was what looked to be a trident. Mark took the pendant and examined it with a grin. Milo continued.

 

“Titan. Yeah. He didn’t like the idea of me leaving you here essentially unprotected.” Milo explained. “So that pendant he’s gifted to you is actually the means with which you can cast a very powerful spell. All you have to do is crush it.”

 

“Really?” Mark asked, as he turned the pendant over in his hand, holding it up to the light. He wanted to know how exactly that worked. On the other side of the pendant there was some kind of ancient lettering there, something too old for him to recognize.

 

“Really.” Milo assured him, watching as Mark took the cord and slipped the necklace on over his head, before tucking the pendant under his shirt. “It’s a way for him to lend you his power for a very short time. Be careful with it, and use it only when you really need it, because apparently, it’s designed to kill a _lot_ of people.” Milo said pointedly.

 

“It’s really very sweet of him.” Mark said.“But… now, when you say a _lot_ of people, about how many people would you…”

 

“Are you kidding?” Milo asked, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Like, lots and lots of people.”

 

“Okay, but do you mean like, twelve people, or slightly more than…”

 

“Mark, don’t just be whipping this thing out like it’s your dick.” Milo told him firmly. “It’s a like a judgement day spell. Think of the entirety of Los Angeles, then think about it getting levelled to the ground. Entirely. Just, flattened.”

 

“Uh huh, uh huh, right.” Mark said, really sinking his jaw into the ‘t’ sound on ‘right.’. “So the next time that I’m stuck on the 101, and it’s taking me three hours to go one mile…”

 

“Mark, no.”

 

“Gonna pull this bad boy out and all of my problems are gonna go away…”

 

“Mark you can’t kill literally everyone just because you’re being slightly inconvenienced.” Milo replied, looking up to him like he seriously regretting his every decision. Not even just the ones revolving around Mark, but all of his decisions, throughout the entirety of his very long life.

 

“No, no, of course not.” Mark continued to tease. “I’m just saying, I could fix every problem with this city in one fell sw-”

 

He stopped with a laugh when Milo just reached out and covered his mouth. Something that had never actually stopped Mark from talking shit before, and he continued to try and make his point underneath the casual restraint of the other man’s palm. Milo rolled his eyes, pushing himself back up so that he was hovering over Mark once again. “It’s a good thing I know how to shut you up.” he said.

 

Mark shrugged Milo’s hand off, ready to spout off some other comment but the Man’s mouth was over his again, cutting him off expertly. It was about then that he felt Milo’s hands elegantly move to unbutton his flannel shirt.

 

Okay, Mark thought he could be quiet for a few minutes if this was the reward.  Although, maybe not too quiet...

 

Milo’s mouth moved from Mark’s, to the corner of his lips, his cheek, flicking out his tongue to slide smoothly along his jaw. The sensation sent a shiver down Mark’s spine, a feeling of warmth that spread directly between his thighs. Mark tipped his head to the side, giving Milo a bit more room to work. “I can tell you missed me.” Mark said casually, as Milo worked his shirt open, the man’s hands immediately brushing along the newly revealed skin. Every new, gentle touch set fire to his need. Mark nearly rose up out of his seat when Milo’s hand brushed over a nipple, but Milo was quick to push him back down.

 

“What was your first clue?” Milo asked him, his voice already deep with his own lust.

 

Mark bit his bottom lip as Milo's tongue slid down his neck, sighed a bit when the man changed his tac and began to nip at him, leaving what was sure to be a nice hickey at the junction of his throat and shoulder. Milo liked to leave his little loving marks. It was like a proof of ownership to anyone who might try to steal him, and there'd been a few more solid attempts over the year. None successfully, obviously.

 

Mark sighed as those hands found the boxers he was wearing and began to tug them down, freeing his steadily growing need.Milo took him in hand, and Mark couldn't help the moan that escaped him, especially as the other man knelt down again. Mark shifted in his seat, releasing one of the arms of the chair to grab onto the head rest behind him. When Milo finally took him in his mouth Mark groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly closed as he gave into the sensation.

 

There was something very insistent flashing across one of the screens in his set up, but Mark ignored it at first. Milo's mouth was warm and wet, he was damn good at pulling the reactions he wanted out of Mark. Mark was practically squirming in his chair, writhing in pleasure as the other man worked him over. Milo’s tongue was downright dangerous, teasing him, flicking out at the tip and teasing the small slit there. Playfully moving along the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there.

 

Then Mark saw that flash again, and he looked up, kind of annoyed. That was about when he realized, and his face paled immediately.

 

“Milo…?” he said weakly, fuck his willpower was weak. He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed. It took him actual work for him to push the man back, when all he wanted to do was pull him closer.

 

Milo slid off with an air of annoyance, his tongue flicking out to lick over spit-shiny lips. “What is it?” He asked.

 

Mark leaned over his head, grabbing the mouse and wordlessly and exited out of the stream. It took a few more moments for Milo's brain caught up with him too, but when it did, he looked pissed.

 

“You were streaming?!” Milo demanded, and Mark winced.

 

“I might have been?” He shrugged a little helplessly. “I must have hit something on accident before you even came in here.”

 

“You're kidding me…”

 

It was around that time that over on the desk, Mark's phone began to blow up with various text messages, the people who loved him trying to warn him just a tad too late. Mark gave Milo a sheepish look. Yeah, he guessed that secret was out.

 

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be a little crazy for a while.” Mark trailed off, watching as the look on Milo’s face went from pissed, to annoyed, and finally, to just kind of resigned. Milo was an intensely private person, but in this day and age, there really wasn’t much they could do to keep him a secret for long. Someone was going to take their picture together at an airport or at one of those overpriced gothy stores at the Fashion Plaza in Scottsdale that Milo occasionally patroned. It was bound to happen. Maybe it was better to rip the band-aid off on that whole secret boyfriend thing. He would have preferred it to not be when said boyfriend was sucking his dick, but, you know, sometimes you didn’t get to choose how these things happened.

  


“Uh.” Mark said after a moment. “Mistakes happen?” He kind of squeaked a little. “I can make it up to you.” He tried again, Milo finally started to laugh.

 

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” Milo decided, as he reached for Mark’s arm and tugged him up out of his chair.

 

~~

 

Cersa was scrolling a little bit too gleefully through the #markshotbf hashtag on twitter when her Uber finally reached her house. She never thought she’d be entertained by a gif of her brother sucking a dick, but sometimes life throws you curveballs, and she’d learned to roll with the punches by now. She always liked it better when life was taking shots at her brother, though. Probably her favorite part about all of this was the fact that Kaz had no idea how famous he was about to be, and further, when he did figure it out he’d be pissed as hell. She sent off a couple of her favorite edited gifs of the blow job to Mark and exited the vehicle.

 

It was evening, as she reached her front door, and she was kind of looking forward to just lounging in her pajamas and ogling Jeffrey Dean Morgan for a couple of hours on _The Walking Dead_ , a show she never watched until he showed up in it to play a bad boy. While one would think with her history of dating the baddest of boys without success would keep her from falling in love with them, well, what could she say? Old habits die hard.

 

She pushed the door open, expecting Daphnis to greet her, but what she saw instead made her stop in her tracks.

 

Her home was _destroyed_ . Tables and chairs overturned. Pictures removed from the wall and smashed. There were glass fragments everywhere. And standing in the middle of it all, a tall, dark haired woman, swinging a key. But, not just any key. _Bael’s_ key.

 

“Nemain?” Cersa whispered, carefully closing the door behind her. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She had her guns, but right then, there was a pissed off looking war goddess standing in between her and her locked up weapons. (Curse her desire to be a responsible gun owner!) She wondered if maybe she could kind of edge her way around, but it didn’t seem like the woman was falling for it. As Cersa tried to side step her Nemain moved forward, her power surging around her. The force of it forced the very air from Cersa’s lungs.

 

“The box…. Cersa.” Nemain demanded.

 

“Box?” Cersa asked,  trying to play dumb, until Nemain shot her a look. “Oh, the box! That box. The box with a partially intact demon in it.” She coughed a little, shaking her head. “There’s so many nicer boxes out there. Surely, a _Queen_ such as yourself, would not want to lower yourself to owning such a bland, boring…”

 

“Cersa. I don’t care about the box.” Nemain insisted. “I have business with the demon. And to continue with that business, I need the demon freed.”

 

“The demon is staying where he is.” Cersa said pointedly. “If you wanted to square up with him you should have thought about that before… before…. We… shoved him into a box.” Cersa replied, making a face as she realized what she was saying was a little bass-ackwards. Nemain didn’t find it funny, at all.

 

“Give me the box.” She demanded again, taking another step towards Cersa, and the woman took a step back.

 

“Look, I don’t even have the box, so you’re shit out of luck either way.” She replied.

 

Nemain paused, tipping her head to the side. “Then who has it?” She demanded.

 

“Ah, fuck you.” Cersa replied. “You’re not getting the box, end of story.” She didn’t do the whole selfless thing very often, but for Mark? Well, she liked Mark. He had turned out to be good for her brother, and she liked seeing Kaz come around more often, instead of just isolating himself all the damn time, wherever the fuck he was choosing to hide himself. He actually bothered to show up to a couple of family events, something she had no doubt was because of the younger man’s influence. Seeing the change he’d brought about in her own family convinced her that he was something that needed to be protected.

 

Her mother still hated him, but Cersa just figured that was because he was dating her baby.

 

Nemain gave her a heated look. She swung the key around, catching it in her palm and sliding it into one of her sleeves. Long, cloth sleeves, which was overlaid with leather armor. That’s how Cersa knew she was dealing with true evil, here. Nothing good came from someone wearing some _Medieval Times_ looking get up in the middle of the damn desert.

 

“You’re going to give me what I want, healer.” Nemain told her firmly. “Or I’m going to give you into a world of pain.”

 

“You know what? I fucking hope you try.” Cersa replied, putting on an air of false bravado, even as she was frantically looking for a way out. “And when my family finds out about this, you’re gonna get fucking fried, bird-brain.”

 

Then Nemain moved in and all she could do was scream.

 

~~

 

In the end, Milo had fucked Mark so hard that he ended up knocking himself out. Or maybe some of that was jet lag, Mark didn’t know. He knew that Milo didn’t fly very often. He didn’t think that Milo had anything strictly against it, Milo just kind of hadn’t needed to very often. (And by the way, who could have ever suspected that Milo had a bonafide daddy kink? Mark just kind of threw it out there to see Milo cringe; he really wasn’t suspecting Milo to raise an eyebrow at him, then lean in and ask if he’d been a ‘very naughty boy’ and question whether or not Mark needed to be put over his knee. Mark liked to spout nonsense just for the shock value, but maybe he’d learned his lesson about that one, because it backfired spectacularly.) Either way, it left Milo dozing next to him, while Mark did some damage control from his phone because, well. After all of that, doing the shaky walk back to his computer where he’d have to sit on his very sore ass didn’t sound all that appealing to him.

 

Besides that, over the past few days, he’d just been kind of feeling…. Meh, in general. He was getting tired very easily, and his balance lately had been kind of shot. His favorite foods didn’t taste the same. He had bouts of dizziness, and occasionally he’d wake up with a dull headache. He would say that maybe he was coming down with something, except for the fact that Milo had assured him that that wasn’t supposed to happen anymore… but that information didn’t really help him change the way he felt.

 

Actually, he kind of wondered if maybe the fact that he hadn’t been feeling all that great is what caused him to hit the wrong thing and go live in the first place.

 

So honestly, just kind of responding to the barrage of text messages and emails he was receiving from his phone while he was lying down was the best he could muster right about then.

  
  


_-At least he’s handsome? I’m very proud of you, hon. Just please be more careful next time._

 

_-Thanks Mom_

  
  


Mark looked at the next message.

  
  


_-YOU IDIOT DON’T YOU CHECK ANYTHING_

 

_-I swear I thought I did Bob lol_

  
  


Mark passed over a message from Ethan that appeared to be a string of random horse laughter.

  
  


_-I knew you’d want to see all the best edited work-safe gifs of yours and Kaz’s romp. BTW, now that I’ve finally gotten to see your piece I’ll stop asking about it. Kisses sweetie ;-*_

 

_-Cersa you have way too much time on your hands._

  
  


Mark saved a few of the gifs for his own use and moved on.

 

After he’d spent about an hour fielding a fair amount of totally justified criticism, horror, and cheerleading in equal measure, Mark decided he was just done with all of it and finally just set his phone aside. Yeah, one thing was for damn certain. His personal relationship with this man wasn’t going to be private anymore, and the idea just kind of made Mark a little queasy. Having the alone time with Milo had been nice, working on their relationship and their issues without prying eyes. They’d had time to grow close together. Mark was even beginning to suspect that he was truly, really beginning to fall in love with the man, though neither one of them had ever said it. (And that was kind of funny to him too, because they totally barrelled through the hurdle of fucking immediately, but just saying they loved each other? Nah, not ready for that kind of commitment. That was still a bridge too far for Mark and Milo.

 

It was while he was having these thoughts that Mark’s queasiness went from being a mild annoyance to the realization that he was probably going to throw up, and he needed to get his sorry ass to a bathroom. Now.

 

He quickly kicked off the covers and rolled out of the bed, landing a bit unsteadily on his feet. He managed to limp over to the adjoining bathroom, flip on the light switch and make it to the toilet before his stomach forced him to upend its contents.

 

Then he threw up. And threw up more. Loudly, and probably grossly, to the point where even Chica got up to come and check on him. To the point that eventually Milo woke up from a dead sleep to come and hover in the doorway of the bathroom.

 

“Mark?” The man questioned, his face betraying his obvious worry.

 

Mark sank back from where he was kneeling in front of the toilet, resting his back against the porcelain wall of the tub. He was doing his best to elicit some kind of sexy pose for his boyfriend, and completely intentionally flubbed it, considering how terrible he knew he looked right then. “Hey sailor.” He slurred, throwing the finger guns in Milo's direction. His flirting was weak and sad, and further, Milo was having exactly none of his shit. Milo pulled a washcloth out of a linen closet and ran it under the cold tap for a couple of seconds. It was a better solution than any of Mark’s solutions for this situation, which pretty much amounted to ‘pass out on the bathroom floor in pain’ right about then.

 

“How long have you been sick?” Milo asked him, worriedly. “Did this just start today?” He demanded, and Mark shrugged.

 

“No, not exactly. I've been feeling kind of shitty for a few days now.” He admitted. “It was never serious though.” He tried to assure the other man. Milo shot him a look.

 

“If you're projectile vomiting into the toilet it's serious enough.” Milo decided, as he kneeled down onto the floor beside Mark. He gently took Mark's arm and pulled him in, gathering him up so that the man could sit astride his lap. That felt nice, but maybe not as nice as the cold cloth Milo draped over his forehead. Mark wasn't running a fever or anything (he didn't think) but it still felt good, soothing, especially after throwing up several major organs, he suspected. Mark let his head rest against Milo's shoulder as the man tried to figure out what to do with him now.

 

“I don't understand why this is happening.” Milo said, after a moment. “After the spell I cast last year you shouldn't be getting this sick anymore.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like me.” Mark said. “Always breaking the game.” He said, as he sunk into the other man. Milo held him for a few moments, and his warmth was coaxing Mark into a calm state. He probably could have fallen asleep like that, because honestly, the other man was comfortable, and he’d definitely slept in worse places.

 

“I haven't thrown up until today.” He eventually clarified his symptoms to Milo, because he knew the other man would just continue to worry, otherwise. “But I've been kind of… I’ve had no energy, and I thought at first it could just be that I was missing you, but it never got better.” Mark admitted. “But now with the throwing up, and… I swear it feels like my back is on fire.” He finally added. It wasn’t something he’d given a lot of attention to, because it seemed secondary to how badly his guts were churning, along with the other menagerie of symptoms he was having, but he definitely felt something not right there.

 

“What?” Milo asked, raising his head up to properly examine Mark. “You mean where the tattoo is?” He asked.

 

Mark's face blanked for a moment. Ah, right. He kind of forgot about that after the area healed up. The little demonic pusheen that people would ask about from time to time when his shirt would ride up on him. He always just said it was an inside joke and never bothered explaining it further because the looks people would give him were priceless.

 

“Yeah, right about there. That started maybe an hour ago?” Mark realized, and suddenly Milo looked very concerned. “Why, what does that mean?” He asked.

 

Milo chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “It could be nothing.” He said after a moment. Mark gave him a knowing look until he explained further. “Or it could mean that Cersa’s in some kind of danger. Like maybe someone’s attacking her.” He said.

 

“What?” Mark demanded. He vaguely remembered that the marking on his back connected him to Cersa somehow. He knew that was how they found him in the desert. But he didn’t realize at the time that it was a two way thing. Hell, he didn’t realize it until Milo had said something, just rightnow.  “Well, go call her.” He said. “Make sure she's okay.”

 

Together they moved back into the bedroom. Though he was still feeling queasy, and it was already pretty late into the night, Mark began to get dressed. He just kind of had the feeling that whatever was happening was about to end in a road trip, and goddammit, he was going to be ready for it, this time. So while Milo tried futilely, over and over again to get a hold of his sister, Mark packed a duffel bag, stuffed it with clothes, a bunch of refillable water bottles, a few personal items, and some snacks. He topped off Chica's dry food and water, knowing he could have someone come by to check on her while he was out of town, if it came to that. Finally he grabbed the butterfly knife Milo had been teaching him to use (super easy to slice your fingers off apparently) and slid it into his pants pocket. Then, he waited.

 

After fifteen or so minutes of failed attempts, Milo turned to Mark, looking a lot more concerned, and almost stressed honestly.

 

“I've got to go to Phoenix.” Milo told him.

 

“I'm going with you.” Mark replied firmly.


	2. Witches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things I feel the need to point out. I'm not sure my various hinting at past events have been good enough, yet, lol. I'm planning at some point down the road to do a couple of one shots that will fill in what happened in the past year between the last fic and this one. The main thing to pick up on here, it was rough. Most important: There were a couple other attempts made on Mark that didn't actually go anywhere because Milo was watching. The next one that seems equally important, at least to me, Mark is learning to do tricks with a butterfly knife. Milo gave him one as a kind of defensive protection thing. Then when he caught Mark kind of carelessly swinging it around, he made him buckle down and actually started teaching him tricks with it. Because you know if he didn't, Mark was going to hurt himself with it.
> 
> Growing up I used to watch my dad play around with butterfly knives, he knows a whole shitload of tricks. I've seen him flip that thing all over the place and not once cut himself. Eventually I ended up buying one, and my dad told me as I was learning to use it to "just expect to cut yourself a lot." It's a hobby I could see Mark picking up, and he plays so many games, he probably has the reflexes for it. He might never be [this](https://youtu.be/-G833lONSao) good at it, but hey.

Driving to Phoenix was less of a straight shot than it honestly should have been. Mark’s nausea was pretty intense for a while, causing them to stop periodically so he could step outside the car and throw up whenever he needed to. It wasn’t as intense as the first time, and he didn’t really have anything in his stomach to throw up after that, so it was just a lot of obnoxious dry-heaving and clear bile that for some reason his stomach felt like it needed to violently eject. He’d been at this for so long and so violently that he thought for sure that he’d broken a rib. 

 

They made it as far as Indio, (which wasn’t actually all that far into their trip at all,)  when Milo decided they needed to pull over so that he could find him some medicine. Mark just kind of curled up pitifully in the front seat while Milo stalked around the store, probably being super intimidating, because by now he knew how the man operated. When he didn’t want to be bothered, he would adopt this super pissed off, high inconvenienced persona that made people think twice as to whether or not they wanted to talk to him. It usually worked. Usually. 

 

When Milo came back he was carrying one of those stupid reusable ‘in theory’ bags, heavy with what looked like Milo had grabbed every fucking over the counter nausea medication in the store. 

 

“Yessss.” Mark said, reaching for the bag and poking through the various offerings. “Why are the side effects on all of these meds just, ‘it’ll make you sleepy?’” Mark questioned, shooting him a suspicious glance. “You trying to knock me out?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow at Milo, who gave him a dry look in return. 

 

“No, not this time.” Milo said, and Mark smirked a little as he tore open the packaging on one of meds, popping a pill out of the plastic casing. “Although I suppose it would make the drive a lot quieter.” He noted. 

 

“Okay.” Mark swallowed the pill dry, though he was still kind of watching Milo suspiciously. “So help me if I wake up with your dick in my mouth…” 

 

“Yeah, well, if I do, I’ll be sure to upload it to the internet first.” Milo replied, sinking back into his seat a little, as he waited for Mark to take his meds and get settled once again. 

 

“Yeah, you can’t threaten me with that shit.” Mark told him. “I know you don’t know how to ‘technology.’” 

 

“I never cared to.” Milo admitted, watching as Mark finished off the remaining pills he was allowed to take with some water, then quietly moved to turn the car back on. “Still nothing from Cersa?” He asked. Mark shook his head. 

 

“She’d be blowing up my phone by now.” Mark said, checking the device anyways. He scrolled through the many, many messages he had garnered through the night before until that moment, and shook his head.

 

The other man nodded. “I just hate dragging you out here like this when you’re so obviously unwell.” Milo told him, as he began to buckle up, getting ready to get back out on the road. “I was kind of holding out for a false alarm.” He added.

 

“Oh come on. I’m fine.” Mark insisted, he paused, realizing a second later how that could be taken.”I mean, I hope Cersa’s okay.” He added quickly. “I’m just saying. I wanted to come.” He told the other man. “Do you really see me as the type to lay about at home while you’re off rushing into danger?” 

 

“Yeah, when you’re throwing up your lungs I kind of expect that.” Milo replied. 

 

Mark rolled his eyes a little. “Just drive.” he instructed. “This is fine.” 

 

~~

 

Mark did end up falling asleep pretty quickly though, once the drugs had kicked in. Once that happened his stomach went from violently tearing itself apart to just kind of a dull ache, and he was pretty sure most of that was just from how the muscles had tensed up. It was so nice to be able to relax. He vaguely remembered sleeping in the car on their last trip out here too, also while he wasn’t feeling well, so maybe that was just kind of how things were meant to be for him and Milo. Always turbulent. 

 

He woke up when he felt the car pulling into the gravel driveway. 

 

Cersa’s house didn’t look any different from the outside, as far as Mark could tell. It was the same, tiny, single story place that he remembered from before. Nothing looked disturbed so far as he could tell, but he also understood that appearances could be deceiving. 

 

Milo began to move out of the car. “Mark? Why don’t you wait here while I…” 

 

Mark gave him the dirtiest look as he moved to slip out of the car, drawing a sigh out of his doting boyfriend. He knew Milo didn’t mean any harm. He understood that it was just the opposite. He was trying to protect him. But he was just kind of sick in general of the whole, ‘poor, helpless mortal’ routine, and while Milo had gotten a lot better about it, allowing Mark to stand on his own, the man still had his moments. Moments that Mark was going to beat out of him if he didn’t watch it. 

 

Mark reached the front door and knocked, ignoring the way Milo stumbled to catch up to him. He didn’t hear anything right away. Cersa was apparently not available to stagger clumsily to the door this time. 

 

He waited as the door swung open and… 

 

A woman he didn’t recognize, moving so fast he almost didn’t recognize what was happening, stepped out onto the threshold and placed her blade up against Mark’s throat. Mark had to tilt his chin up quickly to keep from getting cut. He put his hands up in the most placating manner he could manage and took a step back.

 

Everything just kind of stopped for a second. The woman looked like she was, maybe, in her 50s, but honestly, with how long these immortals lived, his estimates were probably way, way the fuck off anyways. She honestly kind of looked like Michelle Pfeiffer, if the modern Michelle Pfeiffer still dressed and did her hair like 80s era Michelle Pfeiffer. She had long, frizzy blonde hair that seemed to be greying in small streaks and patches, and crow’s feet dancing beside her grey eyes. 

 

Milo was quick to shut that shit down. He quickly took Mark by the shoulders, pulling him away and stepping between him and the woman. “Mom.” Milo said, and Mark was suddenly very grateful that his internal monologue wasn’t external at that point in time, because the last thing he needed to do was insult both Milo and his mother, who already hated him, the fact of which was actually already very apparent. 

 

She didn’t greet Milo warmly. She didn’t respond the way any real flesh and blood mother would have, in Mark’s humble opinion. She didn’t even seem all that happy to see her son. She waved her blade in Mark’s direction again. “What is that?” She demanded. 

 

Milo still had a protective arm around Mark, so Mark wasn’t sure if it was still kind of dangerous to say anything or not. Milo ended up speaking for him anyways. 

 

“Mom, I’d appreciate you not waving that at my boyfriend.” Milo told her, gently pushing her blade away with the palm of his hand. “This is Mark. Remember?” he asked her. 

 

Milo’s mother dropped her arm holding the weapon, but she didn’t sheath it or anything. It made Mark very, very aware that she was still technically a threat. “I knew who he was.” She answered. “I don’t care. What is he doing here?” She demanded. “Why weren’t you here sooner?” She further demanded, and Mark blinked. 

 

Milo stuttered a bit. “I was in Los Angeles.” He answered. “I didn’t know anything was happening.” Milo insisted. “Wait. Where’s Cersa?” He finally asked, and his mother took a step back from the door, giving them room to enter. Mark made sure he kept a very wide berth between himself and Milo’s mom as he passed her by. 

 

Once they got inside Mark was momentarily taken aback at the destruction. Everything looked decimated. Broken chairs and tables. The tv was upended and shattered across the floor. Books had pages torn out. Scorch marks on the previously white walls. It took Mark a moment to process, but he realized after a moment that all of this could only mean one thing. They were looking for something. Who they were and what they wanted he didn’t quite understand, yet. Milo kept close to Mark as he took everything in. To his eyes, Milo looked angry. Cold. Distraught, perhaps. For all that they were siblings, and all the shit they gave each other, he knew they still cared about each other. Mark knew he’d be the same if it was his brother. He quietly reached out, taking Milo’s hand and squeezing it, trying to be his grounding force. 

 

“What did they want?” Milo asked quietly, as he began to squeeze Mark’s hand in return. 

 

“Ask your sister.” Milo’s mother advised coldly. She had finally sheathed her weapon, brushing past Milo and Mark, heading down the hallway towards what Mark remembered was Cersa’s room. The room he’d never been allowed to enter before. Milo began to head towards it, and Mark gently pulled him back. He waited for Milo to lock eyes with him before he spoke up.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked. Milo was typically kind of quiet and brooding, that was just his nature. But Mark could tell when things had changed in his boyfriend. His demeanor went from casual to dangerous very quickly. His voice would get deeper. It would crack. 

 

Milo gave a sharp nod, saying nothing else. Mark understood that this really meant that he absolutely was not okay, but he figured he could question further after they saw Cersa.

 

“Fuck.” Mark whispered. The girl laying in the broken bed didn’t even look familiar to him. Most of her skin was burnt black or a vivid bright red. Her long blonde curls were singed so badly that her hair was falling out in black clumps against the pillow. It took Mark a long moment to realize that she was indeed breathing, and then a moment longer to realize she was  _ awake _ .

 

“Cersa?” Milo asked, and her eyes eventually flitted over to them. She gave them a smile with dried, cracked lips. 

 

“Hey guys.” she whispered, and moved, like she was trying to sit up. Even in this state, still trying to be cheerful, still trying to greet them. In an instant, her mother was at her side, gently pushing her back down.

 

“Cersa.” She said softly. “Don’t get up, let them come to you.” She said. It was the softest tone Mark had heard her use to this point.

 

Cersa snorted though. “Fuck, would you stop hovering, I’m fine.” She said, trying without success to push her mother away. She just looked so weak to Mark’s eyes. As much as she insisted she was okay, he could absolutely tell that wasn’t the case. In fact he had a strong suspicion that if she wasn’t what she was, they’d all be looking at a corpse.

 

Mark glanced back to Milo, and the man looked visibly shaken. The hand Mark wasn’t holding onto was curled into a fist, and on second glance, he seemed to be vibrating. He was  _ pissed _ .

 

“Who did this?” Milo suddenly demanded. “Cersa… what did they want?” He asked, voice growing more gentle when he remembered not to misdirect his anger.. 

 

Cersa’s face fell a little, when Milo brought up the incident. There was a flurry of emotions crossing her face, and Mark quickly got the feeling that she didn’t want to tell them. It was hard seeing the spunky woman being brought so low. She shook a little, glancing from her mother, back to Milo. Her mother nodded softly, gently encouraging her to speak up.

 

“The Morrigan.” She finally answered, whispering it low like the one who attacked her would hear it and come finish off the job for tattling. “They want Bael’s box.” She said. 

 

Mark felt like someone had hit him in the face. He physically recoiled, releasing his hold on Milo as he turned, fearing that he would retch again. Cersa continued. “They already have the key. Mark… you put it someplace safe, right? They, they won’t be able to find it, right?” She asked. 

 

It took Mark a few moments to answer. He was so blindsided. It had been a year since he’d heard that name. A year since the demon had chased him into the desert. There had been incidents since then, but it seemed like even the demon’s monstrous cohorts never officially said his name, and honestly, Mark could take a lot. He’d been through some shit by this point. But something about just hearing that name made him want to curl into a little ball and die. 

 

“I… yeah.” Mark finally answered. It had taken him a moment to shove down the panic attack he felt building, collecting himself very quickly. “It’s in a safe. At home.” He said. He’d bought it pretty shortly after the incident with Damien. For some reason that was the thing that kept him for relaxing for a while. That’s what really told him that shit could still happen, even now, now that the demon was put in his place. He’d actually even upgraded the safe, once he found one that was a little more secure. 

 

Cersa looked visibly relieved at that. “Hey.” She said. “I’ve got something else to tell you, it’s really, really important.” She said, still talking specifically to Mark. Mark turned back towards her, just in time to see her trying to get into a sitting position, but her mother cut her off immediately.

 

“Tell him later.” Milo’s mother whispered to her daughter, and she gently caressed her daughter’s forehead. 

 

“No, mom.” Cersa hissed, but whatever spell her mother was casting on her seemed to take effect quickly. “It’s important. He might… It can’t…” But Cersa was too drowsy to really reply, and quickly sank into a fast sleep. She hit the mattress with a dull thud.

 

Mark’s eyes shot to the older woman. “What was she trying to tell me?” He asked. 

 

“She needs to rest.” Milo’s mother told him firmly. “You have what you need, now go wait outside.” 

 

Milo looked like he wanted to protest, but he sighed heavily, seeming to sense that it was useless. His mother didn’t seem like the kind of woman who could be reasoned with.

 

“Come on, Mark.” he said, gently taking Mark’s arm and pulling him from the room. 

 

~~

 

“Lovely woman, your mother.” Mark said, as soon as they were out of earshot, in the living room. (Well, Mark hoped they were out of earshot.) 

 

Milo just shrugged. “She’s always been something of a battle axe. Her daughter is hurt, and I’m almost sure she blames me for it.” He said. 

 

“Milo.” Mark said firmly. “Hey, come on. This isn’t on you.” he tried to assure the other man, but, he did it carefully. When Milo was upset about something, sometimes comforting him just kind of made the man feel worse. Mark was getting to be more in tune with him though, learning to navigate his various moods and be supportive. 

 

“I brought her into this, involved her.” Milo said. 

 

“Uh, she could have told you to fuck off.” Mark pointed out. “She didn’t. She knew the risks and took us on anyways. Regardless of what could happen.” he said. “I don’t think she regrets anything. And I don’t think you should kick yourself for going to her for help.” 

 

Milo sighed a little, looking back to Mark. “I guess it’s all pointless now, anyways.” he said. “We have another problem to deal with.” 

 

“Right. The key.” Mark said, ignoring the bit of a chill he felt, at the thought of the damn thing being missing. “Who… is…. Are… the Morrigan?” he asked, looking to his boyfriend. 

 

“The Morrigan is more of a they.” Milo replied. “There’s three of them, but they act as one. Think of the Holy Trinity, as taught in Christian circles if that helps you to understand better.” he said. “Babd, Macha, and Nemain. A trio of war goddesses, representative of the whole concept of Sovereignty. They sometimes refer to her as the Phantom Queen.”

 

“Ah.” Mark replied, looking to him. “That sounds not good.” 

 

“Indeed. It is incredibly ‘not good.’” Milo replied drily. “You still have that box locked up, right?” Milo asked, and his voice was incredibly low, again, like this particular goddess could be listening to them, and Mark was getting kind of anxious the way everyone kept doing that. 

 

“I like to take it for a walk in the evenings.” Mark said sarcastically, and rolled his eyes at the look Milo gave him. “Yeah, it’s safe.” Mark replied, and now he was doing it, the whispering thing, to his own dismay. “How are we getting the key back?” He asked. 

 

“Well, I don’t have much of a plan for that, yet.” Milo admitted. “Track them down. Talk to them. I don’t know, maybe I can work out an agreement with them. But I know one thing’s for certain. You’re staying here.” He said, his tone boding no argument. Mark gave him an annoyed look.

 

“I thought we were over this ‘poor unfortunate mortal’ thing.” He said. “We’re supposed to be in this together, now.” 

 

“Not when it comes to ancient war goddesses who just fried the hell out of my sister.” Milo said pointedly. “If they could do that to her, just imagine what they can do to you.” he said. “And with you being sick, I mean, what happens if we need to run? Or if I have to fight, and I can’t focus because I need to be looking over my shoulder to make sure you’re okay?” 

 

“I’m not that incompetent.” Mark scoffed.

 

“It has nothing to do with that.” Milo sighed. “Sometimes shit just catches you off guard, and I’m not saying that you, personally, are going to have that happen to you, even though yeah, your powers of observation can be lacking sometimes. But I’ve seen people who are seasoned fighters get taken out because they missed the shot coming from way behind.” Milo said. “It can happen to anyone, and it would destroy me if it happened to you.” he said. “I had to live through this already, don’t make me do it again.” 

 

“I…” Mark paused, because Milo did have a point there. Mark knew that that had been something that had deeply affected Milo, to the point that 200 years later he was still suffering from the effects. But on that note.

 

“Do you really want to take that suffering and inflict it on me?” Mark asked. Milo made a face at that, dropping his gaze to the floor.  “You’ll be going out there all alone. If something happens to you, how am I going to know about it? How am I going to know what to do, how to get to you if you need help? Or, if the worst, should happen, how I’m going to be able to protect myself without you?” He asked, hoping he was really driving the point home that Mark needed him to be with him.  

 

“Well, considering that she beat us out here, I’m guessing that Mom will have a few clues.” Milo replied, and Mark shook his head. 

 

“Yeah, that’s the other thing. You want me to stay here with the woman who 12 seconds ago had no problem with trying to gut me.” he pointed out, because he felt like that was a valid concern. After the introduction he had to her, he in no way trusted Milo’s mother.

 

“Mom’s… she’s mostly harmless.” Milo said. 

 

“Mostly?” Mark interjected. 

 

“She’ll threaten you but you have my great-grandfather’s blessing, that kind of seals the deal on this whole thing. It’s his word that goes.” Milo added further. 

 

“Great, I’m so reassured.” Mark replied, rolling his eyes. “Look, this is stupid.” He said firmly. “I’m not waiting behind like your fucking damsel. It would keep me awake at nights, wondering where you are, if you’re okay. If you’re, bleeding to death in an alley somewhere.” he said. “You’re important to me Milo, even if I wasn’t coming down with whatever the fuck this is… I just…” He paused, trying to reorder his thoughts in a way he hoped made more sense. “I’m trying to say that even just trying to fall asleep this week was hard to do. Waking up in the middle of the night and looking for you, only to remember after the panic that you were out of the country? Waiting for you to come back is going to suck. I’m not doing it. Especially not with all of this fuckery going on.” 

 

“Mark…” 

 

“No.” Mark shut him down immediately. He was vibrating from just how upset he was. 

 

Taking that as the final word on the topic, Mark turned, heading back out towards the car. He was already so tired of the conversation, and there was nothing that Milo could say that would make Mark even think that staying behind was a good idea. 

 

Mark suddenly stopped. There was nothing in his way or blocking his path. He just couldn’t move. It was like he’d suddenly frozen in place. Against his will, he took a step backwards, and another. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Milo whispered, and Mark sighed. 

 

His body turned on its own, facing Milo again, and he saw the man standing behind him, one hand outstretched. 

 

“The human body is made up of approximately 60% water.” Mark repeated the fact he’d learned as a child, verbatim, as he glanced up to Milo. “How long have you been waiting to pull this trick out on me?” He asked. 

 

“Actually, you have a slightly higher concentration in you at the moment, but I’m not too interested in hashing out why.” Milo shrugged. Mark made a face at that useless fact, but he ignored it for the moment. “And, honestly, I was saving it for a really bad fight, but to protect you from yourself?” Milo asked, using his other hand to force Mark forward a few more steps. It was like he was drawing him in with a line. “I guess that works too.” 

 

“Well, I mean. I was angry before.” Mark drawled. “But now I’m pissed.” 

 

“I’ll make it up to you later.” Milo promised, as the man moved up to him. He gently caressed Mark’s cheek, leaning in close to brush noses with him. Despite his irritation, Mark closed his eyes, letting the other man manipulate him into a kiss. He really wished he could move to touch the other man, especially because he didn’t know if and when he was ever going to see him again.

 

“Milo, don’t do this.” Mark begged softly when they parted. He didn’t know what he could say to convince Milo to stay with him, but he’d have said anything if it would have kept the man by his side.

 

“I’ll be alright.” Milo insisted to him. Gently taking Mark by the arms, he turned the man around, leading him to sit on a couch cushion on the floor. It was one of the only things in the room that hadn’t been completely destroyed. “And so will you. I’ll keep their attention on me, and, maybe I can figure out a way to get the key back.” he said. 

 

Mark tested Milo’s hold on him again. He couldn’t even lift a finger. It was like a wet, heavy blanket had been draped over him, and no matter what he did he couldn’t fight it. 

 

“Don’t fight it, you’ll only tire yourself out.” Milo sighed, sensing what Mark was trying to do. “The spell will lift in 15 minutes. I’ll be long gone by then.” Milo told him. “You won’t be able to follow.” he said pointedly.

 

“I guess not.” Mark replied, in a mixture of worry and irritation. 

 

Milo kissed him again, swiping his bangs to the side with his fingers before he finally stood to leave. Mark felt a pang deep in his chest when all he could do was watch.

 

~~

 

Sitting on a couch cushion on the fucking floor led Mark to the longest 15 minutes of his life. And he fought it like crazy, because of course he couldn’t just take Milo’s word for it. There was a lot of grunting and panting, his chest heaving with spent energy as he tried to move out of the position Milo had placed him in. He wasn’t used to being so still. Mark was almost positive it lasted for at least an hour. When the spell finally released him his body sunk down, nearly collapsing from his exhaustion. Milo had been smart about that at least. He probably knew Mark’s stubbornness would lead him to fight the spell until he was too tired to do anything else. Smart bastard. 

 

Finally free to move, Mark managed to get himself to his feet. He was kind of lost as to what to do after that. He gave brief thought to updating his friends and family on his location, but he ended up deciding against that. As far as they were concerned he had no business in Arizona, and he didn’t want them to think he was having some kind of break down after what had happened the night before. But trying to find something else to occupy himself with was also turning out to be kind of tricky. Cersa’s house was seriously destroyed. There didn’t seem to be one thing that wasn’t damaged in some kind of way. 

 

He just badly needed something to do, because if he didn’t, he’d freak himself out worrying over Milo. 

 

In the end he decided to just try and clean up Cersa’s house for her, as much as he could. Taking broken furniture and piling it outside. Sweeping up the various pieces of glass. Gathering the books Cersa had around the house, and trying to match the pages. (As best as he could, because try as he might, he couldn’t actually read the runes that seemed to be what comprised most of these books.) He managed to clear up most of the living room when Milo’s mother left the bedroom and paused, taking in everything the sight of everything Mark had done.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked him, giving him a slightly suspicious look.

 

Mark just shrugged, gesturing to the rest of the room. “Just trying to get the place looking a bit more acceptable.” he said. 

 

“Why?” She asked him, still looking around. Mark sighed. 

 

“Why not?” He asked. “I’m just trying to help out, and I doubt Cersa’s up to much of anything.” He sighed again. “Like I know you hate me, and fine, I’m man enough to admit that I can be a total asshole when I want to be, but I’m not so much of an asshole that I wouldn’t try to help her out…. Somehow, when she’s hurt. I’m not so sure I understand your…. Races? Biology? so I can’t help make her feel better any faster, but I can at least help clean up out here.” he explained further.

 

Milo’s mother hummed slightly, as she took in the sight of the place. “Well I suppose it looks better.” She finally admitted. 

 

It was as close to something pleasant as Mark had ever heard come out of her mouth, so he supposed he’d take it. 

 

She turned to fully face Mark. “What’s this thing Cersa was speaking about, before?” She asked him. “Something about a key?” 

 

“Oh, that.” Mark made a face. He didn’t like talking about this. He didn’t even really bring it up to Milo or Cersa, and they were there for the entirety of it. “It started last year, there was a demon that was harassing Milo, and because of my… association with him, he began harassing me.” Mark said. “Milo and Cersa both killed him a couple of times, and eventually they decided to just lock him up. They did a necromancy kind of…” 

 

Mark paused, a tiny detail that he’d completely forgotten about began to stand out in his mind. Milo and Cersa’s mother already knew all of this. Cersa had called her right before she had performed the ritual, and asked for advice. 

 

His instincts were screaming at him to shut up and not say anymore. He straightened up a little, and looked to the other woman. 

 

“Keep going.” She told him, her arms crossed over her chest. “There’s a key… so I’m assuming there’s something that it unlocks.” She said. “Where’s the box? My daughter was nearly killed for all of this.” She reminded him. “I have the right to know.”    
  


“No, you’re being really fucking weird about this.” Mark replied, dropping his hands to his sides, hovering close to where he kept the butterfly knife Milo had given him. “That crazy triple goddess is here, isn’t she?” he demanded. 

 

Milo’s mother sighed hard, rolling her eyes at him. “Why do you have to make this so difficult for me?” She asked. Then, right before his eyes she just, transformed. From an older woman with faded blonde hair, to a much younger, more vibrant woman, with vivid red hair. She shot Mark a smile. 

 

“Don’t worry. If you’re worried about the in-laws, your boyfriend’s mother was all too happy to sell you down the river. Told me I was free to use her visage to get what I needed out of you, in exchange for her daughter’s safety.” The woman took a step closer. Mark took a step back. “I wish you weren’t the smart type. Because now I’m going to have to hurt you to get what I want.” 

 

“You can get straight fucked.” Mark decided, unsure if that was even an insult. “That box is staying buried, and you’re never gonna get it.” 

 

“Damn shame.” The woman said, shaking her head. Then she suddenly reached out with her hand, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him in, hard. In the next instant, they both disappeared. 

 

~~

 

Mark felt like he was falling. It only lasted for a brief moment, but it was enough to unbalance him. He hit the ground and rolled with it, once, twice, scrabbling at the dirt and rocks as he brought himself to a stop, just before landing, ass-first, into a stream, sending up a wave of crystal clear water. He scrambled for a moment, as shoes that weren’t meant for walking across algae covered rocks slid perilously, but he was finally able to get himself upright. 

 

No sooner had he stood, but that crazed, pissed off goddess was on him again, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him around. A sword now in hand, she held it to Mark’s throat. 

 

“Welcome to Maidenhair Falls.” The woman, who Mark figured was one of the Morrigan by now, (He just wasn’t sure which one) told him. “I’d so hate to bleed you out up here, but it’d be an interesting thing, for the hikers downstream to find your colors carried down by the water.” 

 

Mark watched her for a moment, twisting his arm a bit in her grasp. He was trying to focus on what she was saying, really he was, but his stomach was turning wretchedly again. He didn’t know if it was this whole teleportation thing, or the fall, or the stress of the situation, but he was beginning to feel really sick, a little faint, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it through the whole supervillain spiel right then.

 

“Ma’am?” Mark said after a moment. “Um. I’m sorry, I’m trying really fucking hard to pay attention to you, here, but…” He gently pushed her arm back, and, though she just looked confused as all hell, she let him go. Mark turned from her, retreating further back towards the waterfall in question. He held onto one of the vines hanging down for support and he started to retch, again. Because his body just had the worst timing, and yes, he still hadn’t eaten so in theory, he didn’t have anything in there to throw up, but that sure didn’t stop his body from trying. 

 

“Uh…” he could hear the Morrigan behind him, the woman seeming to hover closeby. “Are you okay?” She asked him, and Mark waved her off. 

 

“S’fine.” He insisted, though the sound probably came out sounding very weak and emasculating. After a moment, he straightened up. Fighting the shivering his body wanted to do, he turned, looking back to the Morrigan. 

 

She gave him a skeptical look. “Ah.” She said. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him. “I’d hate to kill an invalid man. There’s no sport in it.” She mused. Mark just shrugged at her.

 

“Lady, I’m as valid as they come.” He said. “This is fine. Everything is fine.” He said to her. “As you were.” He said, wavering her forward so that they could continue where they left off. Mark thought he could finish this pretty quickly here, but in order to do that, he needed the goddess to get close to him. He kept in mind the trick that Milo had taught him and he stood at the ready. It occurred to him that he could probably end this thing in one shot, with the pendant gifted to him, but he quickly decided against it. He was saving that.

 

The woman studied him for a bit longer, before offering him a shrug. “Where were we?” She asked.    
  


“You were threatening me.” Mark helpfully supplied. 

 

“Ah, right.” She tossed her hair back with a flourish, brandishing her weapon again. But she was still keeping her distance from him and that just wasn’t going to help Mark at all. He thought about all the details Milo had given him earlier. She was a war goddess. The Phantom Queen. 

 

What do Queens like? When you humbled yourself and knelt. 

 

So Mark got down on his knees, trying to play the part of the helpless mortal.  _ Come on, get a little bit closer, you bitch… _

 

At the very least, she seemed pleased by his prostrating himself. She approached him again, cornering him close to the falls, just barely within reach. “I need the box.” She told him. “Give it to me and I may spare you.” 

 

“Well.” Mark said calmly. “Seeing as how it’s contents would instantly gut me, I’m going to have to turn you down.” he said. “Thanks for asking, though.” he said. 

 

The  woman shook her head. She quickly reached down, grabbing him by the throat and hefting him aloft. Mark bit his bottom lip and did his best not to struggle as she lifted him into the air. It was difficult, as she was restricting his airway, but he really didn’t want her to notice what else he was doing. His hand slipped into the pants pocket and grabbed the butterfly knife. 

 

“Well, then.” She said, voice calm, almost dangerously so. “Looks like you’ve just traded the devil for the witch.” 

 

Mark got the knife free. It took him less than a second to get it open. Milo had shown him a while ago how to do this, and he’d practiced it on his own enough that he was fairly proficient at it. He took the knife, held it out to the side. Gripping the bite handle, he tossed it lightly into the air, let the knife flip over, and by the time the handle hit his palm he had it rightside up. He then took that knife and drove it into the woman’s throat. 

 

She gave him a stunned look and dropped him immediately. Mark landed on his feet, watching as she stumbled back. 

 

“Yeah.” he taunted, as she grasped at her own throat. “Didn’t expect that from the poor little mortal, did you?” He asked. He watched then as her expression went from that stunned look to one of rage, and he thought that maybe he ought to rethink just how proud he was of himself until he’d actually dissolved the threat. “Um. Hold on, I think I still need this.” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and moving to grab the knife, yanking it out of the woman’s throat with a twisting motion. She coughed, stumbling back as her hands flew to the gaping hole in her throat. 

 

When she somehow managed to scream in a gurgling, twisted sort of rage, Mark decided, screw it, he was going to take his chances and get the fuck out of there before she’d really recovered herself. There was really only one way out of that spot, and it was down. He turned heel and barreled down the canyon, letting the stream guide him as he made his way. He passed palm trees and barrelled over boulders, and tried to ignore the screams that echoed around him.

 

~~

 

Damien watched as his protege dragged the last body over. He did a quick count, and he noted the numbers didn’t quite add up. “There’s only fourteen here.” He said, glancing over to where the much younger man was kneeling beside the last one, checking the bindings wrapped around the shrouds. “We’re missing one.” 

 

The young man he’d come to know as Virgil sighed. “You’re kidding me. This was everyone at the campsite.” He complained. “It’s too hot for this.” 

 

Damien hummed a little, yeah, the man looked way too hot. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and his grey eyes betrayed his weariness. Even his pet Griever was looking frustrated, the large grey wolf snorting harshly at the prospect of added time in the aptly named Hellhole Canyon. Damien cracked open the miraculously still cold water bottle he was carrying and took a sip. “You should have dressed for the weather, my friend. You knew we were heading into a desert, what’s with all the leather?” He said. Damien tugged at his own loose-hanging shirt. “Cotton. It breathes.” 

 

Virgil shot him a look. “It was cooler this morning.” he pointed out. Damien shrugged. 

 

“Yeah, in LA.” Damien replied. “Quit bitching. Dump that jacket and let’s go find the last one.” he said. 

 

He watched as Virgil stood to comply, shrugging off the jacket. As he did so, Damien kept his eyes on their surroundings. For the most part, it had been pretty calm out there. Well, aside from the screaming and bloodshed of the… well, that hardly needed to be mentioned. Besides, there was something happening in the canyon, just a bit further down from where they stood. Some kind of echo that was distantly pounding along the canyon walls. He wondered at first if that was their last succubi, but as the screeching went on he figured out pretty quickly that that wasn’t what was going on. Even Griever seemed to notice something was off, and he trotted over, taking up a defensive position between the two men. 

 

Then, burning ash began to trickle down from the sky. At this point, Virgil had noticed it too, face tipped up towards the strange meteorological event. He had stripped down to a grey shirt with the letters “KAMELOT” emblazoned on it in fanciful lettering. Damien just hoped it left him free to move better.

 

“What’s happening?” Virgil asked, dropping his jacket down into the dirt. His hands hovered close to the sheathed daggers at his hips. 

 

Damien tugged up his cane, twisted it around his wrist, tapped it with his index finger three times and when he was done it was transformed into a sturdy umbrella. He held it aloft, letting it block the ash raining down from the sky. Virgil shaded his eyes with one of his hands.

 

There was an eerie cry, that sounded like the cawing of crows, carried by the wind. 

 

Then, from where the canyon narrowed between a copse of palms, a young man slid down, landing squarely in the stream. He continued running towards them, determined to escape whatever was hot on his trail… Damien tipped his head to the side curiously, unaware there’d been any other hikers on the trail that day. But the longer he examined him, the more he realized this wasn’t a typical hiker. 

 

This was someone in trouble. 

 

“Fuck.” He heard Virgil whisper. 

 

_ Well, that sealed it. _ Damien thought with some annoyance. Virgil was too fucking good for this job. It was a good thing he was looking into other things; he’d have never made it for long as a real hunter. He quickly resigned himself to being dragged into whatever trouble this young man was bringing with him. 

 

When he was close enough to grab Virgil caught the young man, shoving him up against the nearest palm tree. Damien saw pretty quickly that Virgil meant for the tree to shield him from the approaching attack, which as it came closer, sounded more and more to Damien’s ears like the cries of a banshee. 

 

Griever began to growl, red eyes glaring as the wolf prepared for an incoming attack. 

 

Damien turned his attention briefly to Virgil, as he struggled to calm the young man. 

 

“You don’t understand, she’s gonna kill you, I have to go…” 

 

_ I know that voice.  _

 

Damien did a double take, and then he realized. He knew this man. 

 

“Mark.” Damien shouted, and he saw the younger man still. His dark eyes snapped up and locked with Damien’s blue.

 

“Oh hell.” Damien heard Mark whisper. 

 

Damien glanced from him back to the canyon, where the palms abruptly erupted into flames. Emerging from them, walking with a bit of a stagger, the pissed off, and oddly, greying goddess stepped down, holding her sword aloft as she approached. As she moved forward so did her familiars, a small legion of crows taking wing at her back. Griever howled in warning.

 

“Indeed.” Damien replied, as he prepared himself for the assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yeah, so I kind of deviated back into California here, which goes against every fiber of my being, but. Guys. I found ANOTHER Hell-themed canyon! Hellhole Canyon in Anza Borrego. And, and, even better, it [floods in like seconds](https://youtu.be/_6vIcqln-ao) when it rains!! Fuck yes! Throw Mark right the fuck in there, because I am unable to stop symbolizing for even two seconds. My inner geologist is quivering in excitement.
> 
> Also, yeah, I may have just introduced a few more new characters. Milo's mom is uh. That's his mom. But Virgil is like Damien, who I introduced at the end of the last fic. He's another one of my old rp characters, he also has a [tumblr](http://virgil-warren.tumblr.com/post/95142970638/headcannon) and some of you may even recognize his face character. Man, I've missed playing with Virgil. 
> 
> It also occurs to me that Virgil might have been a good match for Mark but uh. That's a thought for another fanfic. Lmao.


	3. Nothing's Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize this one's coming out.... mildly late for my current pace, but like. I have a good excuse. No really. 
> 
> You see, I had kind of a massive test last week. Then I worked all weekend. Then I got sick again and I tried to work through it but my writing was so bad I just knew I couldn't and I needed to take a break and get better. Then I had to take an emergency trip to Disneyland. And now, you may not think that a trip to Disneyland is an emergency, but see, the thing here is, it was to celebrate my birthday, (which is actually next Sunday, but I work that day, so the Disney trip had to be Monday.) And then I spent all of today like, park drunk lol. But I managed to just finish my editing and whatever, and I think this chapter turned out.... okay. It's okay. It's just okay, lol. 
> 
> But hey that whole Disney thing does remind me I had a rant about this string of fics, and it all ties into the worst fucking thing Disney has ever fucking done, spawning my one person protest (until I found out a lot of other people fucking hated it too, and they started giving me buttons to assist in my protests, God love you other parks fanatics.)
> 
> But anyways, I'll get into all of that at the bottom of this chapter. Just enjoy my continued insanity and shark-jumping.

“Hey Virg.” Damien snapped his fingers at the younger man. He was still standing in front of Mark, half shielding him from the falling debris. Virgil’s various leathers blocked the ashfall semi-decently. Mark had nothing to protect him. Virgil raised his head up to get a better look at his mentor. “She’s injured, so I think just this once, you’ve got this.” Damien looked to him. “Let me watch the kid.”

 

“Kid?” Mark complained. His protestations were subsequently ignored by both men.

 

Virgil looked between Damien and the woman, whom Damien recognized as Babd. “You sure about that?” he asked, looking appropriately hesitant. Yeah, Damien was only about 80% sure that Virgil could take down even an injured war goddess, but he’d been working with him enough lately. He’d be okay. Probably.

 

Damien nodded. “Yeah, go for it.” He said encouragingly. He moved over to where Virgil was, taking Mark’s arm and tugging him to stand beside him, under the relative safety of the umbrella. “Don’t worry, I’m watching. Right behind you.”

 

Virgil still seemed unsure, but his hands moved to the twin hilts of his daggers, tugging them out with a flourish. As Virgil moved to fight the goddess Griever growled, moving to fight alongside the other man.

 

“Oh yeah, sure.” Damien said to the wolf, watching as his creation went on to guard Virgil instead of him. “I only created you, I am the reason for your very existence, but go ahead.” He was getting real tired of the wolf loving everyone but him. It was like watching his child trying to adopt himself out to other, possibly more capable parents.

 

Damien’s attention was drawn back to Mark when the man suddenly yanked his arm out of his hold. He didn’t quite move away from him, probably because of that whole, ‘the sky is falling but on fire’ thing, and Damien finally focused on him.

 

“Are you sure he’s okay on his own?” Mark asked first, and Damien nodded.

 

“Well, sure. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be fine. I cast a protection spell on him earlier. Her blade can’t pierce him right now. So in theory, if he just keeps wailing on her, eventually, he ought to get somewhere.” Damien said vaguely.

 

“Does he know that?” Mark asked.

 

“Absolutely not. And you’d better keep your damned mouth shut about it. He’s supposed to be learning. Trial by fire. Ah, well, literally.” he said, gesturing vaguely to the fire raining down upon them. “Now, what are you doing out here?” Damien demanded.

 

Mark glanced at the other man, grasping his own arm where Damien had grabbed him. He looked between Damien and the not one, not two, but _fourteen_ dead bodies, and Damien sighed a little. Yeah, he could kind of understand Mark’s hesitance, here. Whatever he was doing probably paled in comparison to the destruction he and Virgil had wrought just an hour or two ago.

 

“Look, it’s fine, these women were evil.” Damien insisted.

 

“I’m not sure you get to qualify to me what’s evil and what’s not, dude who literally sold his soul to a devil.” Mark pointed out, literally sticking a finger in Damien’s direction.

 

“Touché. What can I say? Evil knows evil, Mark.” Damien shrugged, knocking his hand aside. “I’m just here to make sure my absolutely good and holy friend Virgil doesn’t get his ass eaten on this job he took on.”

 

“Virgil?” Mark asked, looking over just in time to see the other guy fending off a series of blows from the goddess, while Griever moved in to latch onto one of her thighs. Mark winced as she screamed in pain, which came out as kind of a strange, gurgling sound. He very quickly averted his eyes, which Damien thought was oddly adorable. Not often you ran into a kid so oddly squeamish, especially in this day and age, when everyone was so desensitized.

 

“Yeah.” Damien shrugged a little. “Our relationship, mine and Virgil’s is... Complicated, In a way that I suspect he doesn’t even understand. Now, and I don’t normally do this, but I need him to live. So I’m showing him the ropes, as it were. Teaching him a few tricks.” he said, rather openly. “Virgil wouldn’t kill anyone unless it was to protect an innocent. So believe me when I say, these ladies?” he asked, gesturing to the bodies. “Totally had it coming.”

 

“I… yeah…. Okay.” Mark settled, but he still seemed a little unsure of things. “I was brought out here by…” He gestured vaguely and without looking at the now heavily bleeding goddess. “Her.”

 

“Babd.” Damien corrected him. “Why?”

 

“Bab-duh. Babdt. Babd.” Mark stuttered over the name for a few seconds, before he finally got it right, more or less. “Whatever, she’s… she wants the box, and I can’t help her, and she’s pissed.” He very quickly summarized the situation for him.

 

“Box?” Damien asked, confused. “What box?”

 

“The box we stuffed the demon into.” Mark replied. “Please don’t make me say his name.” He requested, his voice betraying some of the stress he felt just thinking about it.

 

“Oh.” Damien replied, and he realized something. He did his best to try and keep track of beings moving between the various worlds, because usually that spelled out trouble for him. Something had happened earlier that day had given him pause, but considering that he’d had more pressing concerns at the time (keeping Virgil alive as he fought his way through the coven of succubi,) he didn’t have much time to really examine it. “Is that why Kasmilos went into the Underworld this morning?” he asked, and Mark gave him a stunned look.

 

“He did _what_?!” Mark demanded, suddenly going pale.

 

“Oh, you didn’t…” Damien trailed off, surprised at Mark’s surprise. The other man looked like he was about to pass out, and Damien grabbed him again, this time just trying to keep Mark on his feet. “Come on, come on, don’t you pass out on me.” he murmured, taking Mark back to the palm tree and letting him lean against it. He had to angle the umbrella a little to keep protecting him, and the palm tree kind of got in the way a little, but eventually he managed.

 

Mark placed a hand against the tree, using it to support himself as he recovered his senses, and he looked to Damien again. “What does that mean?” Mark asked. “Is he dead?” He further demanded.

 

“No…” Damien said quickly, before rethinking his answer. He really shouldn’t reassure him like that when he didn’t exactly know himself. “I mean, I doubt it.” he said. “Persephone likes him, he has her permission to move about in her realm. I don’t think that the fact that he’s down there means he’s dead, but I don’t exactly have all the information here, either.” he said.

 

“Yeah, well that makes two of us.” Mark replied, faintly sinking further back against the tree.

 

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when Virgil returned, the holding the head of the goddess by her hair. He dropped it, letting it roll to the ground.

 

“I did it!” He said, sounding kind of dazed. Damien’s suspicions were confirmed when the man just kind of abruptly dropped to the ground, landing squarely on his ass. He looked fucking exhausted. Griever came up behind him, gently nudging one of Virgil’s shoulder’s with his snout. Just checking on the kid. “I mean, someone got to her a little first, but I did it. I finished her off.”

 

“That’s me.” Mark said, straightening up a bit. “That’s me, I started that.” He didn’t exactly sound proud, but he didn’t sound like he wasn’t, either.

 

“Well, congrats, to the two of you.” Damien put in, dropping the umbrella as the flaming ashfall began to peter out. As he dropped it into its previous position, it returned to its cane form. He pressed it into the dirt, looking between Virgil and Mark. “You’ve managed to kill one third of an ancient goddess. Now you just have the other two to worry about.” He said, as both young men looked to him with a sense of foreboding etched onto each of their faces. “I’m sure you’re both ready to take on the hell that’s about to coming raining down on your heads, because I’m positive the remaining two are very aware of what’s just happened to their sister.” He mused. The way they both physically drooped spoke to the exact opposite being true.

 

“Hey, you wanted to get involved.” Damien shrugged at Virgil. He glanced back out. “Fifteen bodies now.” he mused. It was a good thing sand was so good at absorbing liquids like blood. Some poor hiker was going to stumble upon this scene and probably flip out otherwise. “I suppose that’s good enough for today. We’ll catch the elusive remaining succubus another time. Let’s get them in the ground and go grab lunch.”

 

“I’m not dead.” One of the bodies weakly spoke up. Mark startled a little hearing it. Virgil frowned and gave it a strong kick from his seated position.

 

“Yes you are, shut up.” He hissed at it.

 

Damien noticed the still relatively sick look on Mark’s face. “Ah, if you’re feeling unwell, feel free to sit out the grave digging.”

 

Mark visibly shivered at the idea. Damien didn’t quite understand where that was coming from. And then he remembered. Oh right. Their little cemetery adventure from the year before. He could see how that might not have sat well with the young man. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a thing and all. Virgil seemed to notice too, and he reached up, placing a hand on Mark’s arm.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, we’ve got this.” he said, and Mark seemed slightly more assured at Virgil’s voice. Virgil just kind of had a manner with people that put them at ease, especially children, and Damien would never really understand it. Or maybe he did, because here he was, in the middle of the desert trying to make sure the man didn’t get himself killed.

 

Mark nodded, moving to sit beside the tree while Virgil got to work.

 

~~

 

Damien didn’t immediately rejoin Virgil right away, giving Mark a long look that immediately had him on his guard.

 

“What’s that thing on your neck?” He asked. Mark glanced down, and realized in short order that at some point, the pendant had fallen out from where he typically hid it beneath his shirt.

 

“It’s nothing.” Mark replied, moving to tuck it back into place. Damien hummed softly, moving forward curiously now.

 

“Let me see it.” Damien requested holding his hand out expectantly, and Mark hesitated. He under no circumstances, trusted Damien. Even if Damien and Virgil were being nice to him right now, (and, honestly, he was stuck out in the middle of another fucking desert, he needed the help,) but after his experience with Damien he expressly did not want to just hand over to him the magical equivalent of the big red button.

 

“No?” Mark replied, like he was unsure if that was the correct answer or not.

 

Not taking no for an answer, Damien approached him. Mark tensed up hard, as Damien squatted down beside him.

 

“What’s this?” He asked, reaching behind Mark’s ear, fingers brushing against an errant strand of his hair. Mark let out a loud squeak, shifting to try and get away from the other man. But Damien didn’t even touch him. He just stood up quickly, and when he did, he had the pendant grasped in his hand. Mark was stunned. He checked quickly under his shirt, and sure enough, the pendant was gone. It was now safely in Damien’s hands, as the other man seemed to read the text on the back with great interest.

 

“Give that back!” Mark demanded, pushing himself up from the ground.

 

“Ah ah!” Damien replied, shaking a finger at him. He kept the pendant out of Mark’s reach, waving it over both of their heads. “I’m not finished, here.” he said. He placed a hand on Mark’s forehead, pushing him back while he finished reading the script. “Where did you get this?” Damien asked him, after a moment.

 

“Gift from the in-laws.” Mark murmured, trying to push against Damien’s restraining hold. “Give it back now, please.” he said, frustrated.

 

“That’s… a hell of a gift. You likely wouldn’t have needed our intervention if you’d used this on the goddess.” Damien replied, finally moving to offer it back to Mark. Mark immediately snatched it, pulling it back down over his head and hiding it under his shirt once more. “Do you know how to direct it?” Damien asked.

 

“I’m not going to just pull it out like that, I’m saving it!” Mark said, frowning at the old sorcerer. “What do you mean?” He finally asked.

 

“Do you understand how to direct it so that it doesn’t backfire and kill someone you don’t want it to kill?” Damien asked.

 

“No.” Mark admitted. “They kind of just gave it to me, told me to crush the pendant when I needed it.” He said. Damien snorted a bit at that.

 

“Laziness.” Damien replied, shaking his head. “Or maybe not, maybe it’s that they simply don’t care who dies, so long as you are safeguarded.” he said. “Remind me sometime to show you how to do that. Either that or give me a call before you plan on using it. Give me like a, ten minute head start so that I can get as far away from you as possible.” he said.

 

“I…. okay.” Mark replied, frowning a little, trying not to think too hard about what the implications of that information really was. He suddenly kind of felt like he had a nuclear bomb strapped to his chest, suddenly, and while he wasn’t entirely sure he should be responsible for something like that… he wasn’t about to just give it away either. Especially not to Damien. Sassy magical Disney-villainy bitch.

 

~~

 

A few hours later Mark was sitting across from the two men in a booth at a place he never caught the name of. It was as typical and tiny as a small town American diner could get. Virgil ordered a burger with a mountain of fries, and Damien picked at a steak that he claimed was overcooked but he didn’t care enough to send back. He fed most of it to the wolf lying quietly at his feet beside the booth. Mark ordered a 7-up, because he was still feeling majorly terrible. It was only after Virgil’s gentle insistence that he ended up ordering the soup of the day, which turned out to be chicken noodle soup. The cup sat in front of him, and he sipped at it a little, but left it mostly uneaten, with Mark just kind of pushing the food around with his spoon.

 

Virgil didn’t seem like the kind of guy who sat quietly through his meals, just checking his phone or whatever, so he was the one between the three of them really pushing for conversation.

 

“So.” he said, looking between them. “You two knew each other?” He asked, and Damien smirked a little.

 

“Yeah, sort of. It was only for a few hours, though.” Damien put in.

 

“I had nightmares for months.” Mark replied with a glare.

 

“Ah… oh.” Virgil’s eyes widened a little. “Sorry, I… I didn’t realize it wasn’t a friendly meeting.” he said.

 

“It was nothing personal.” Damien shrugged, but he was still smiling pretty obnoxiously.

 

“Everytime I would close my eyes I’d be back in that fucking room with the fires, and the wolf standing guard, and the only thing that helped was knowing that Milo was close by.” Mark protested. “I had that dream more often than the ones with the fucking…” He paused, because he really, really didn’t want to go into the Bael nightmares, especially not with someone he’d just met. “And now I don’t even have him around anymore.” he murmured, stabbing angrily at a carrot slice floating in his soup. “Don’t even know if he’s still alive.” he continued to mutter under his breath. He was just very, very disgruntled with the terrible decisions people were making in regards to him lately. Even more disgruntled that there was really nothing he could do to stop them from making those decisions. The loss of his autonomy was what stung the most, lately.

 

Damien hummed a little. “I mean, he’s probably still alive, you know how hard it is to kill an immortal? Virgil knows.” Damien said, looking to Virgil, who gave Damien a very unamused look in return.

 

“It went pretty fast after you softened her up for me.” He said to Mark, like he was trying to make him feel better. Mark made a face at that. Virgil turned back to Damien. “Is there anything you can do to help him?” he asked. “Anyway to find his Milo, or to bring him back?”

 

Damien snorted at that. “Short of following him into the gates of hell? No.” He said. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. Or he won’t, because he’s dead. Either way, it’s not worth the trip.”

 

Mark raised an eyebrow at that. “The way you’re saying that is making it sound like a possibility.”

 

“Oh, it’s easy to get into Hell. People do it everyday.” Damien replied airily. “But what I guess you’re trying ask me is, is there a way to do it and come back?” he said.

 

“Yeah, that’s exactly the thing I’m asking.” Mark said, and Damien huffed at that.

 

“Boy, I don’t even try to do that, and I have done it. Been there. It’s messed up.” Damien said. “There’s so many levels of nonsense to navigate your way through. Various degrees of sin. Labyrinths and mazes. Monsters that true nightmares are made up of. It stains you. You're never free from that haunted feeling. You don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go there. I’m not going there.” Damien said firmly. He tossed another piece of woefully overdone steak to Griever, who snatched it out of the air with his powerful jaws.

 

“And you’re not going either. So wipe that sad look off of your face.” he told Virgil. “Even just trying to open up a path there can leave an opening for something unsavory to come crawling out of it. So you, my Holier than Thou friend, should be on my side here. We need to keep that thing shut and stay far the fuck away from it.”

 

Mark frowned exponentially. Then he noticed the uneaten pickle laying abandoned on Virgil’s plate. It wasn’t something he normally went for when he was snacking, but it was the first time in a long time that his appetite had perked up, and he wasn’t going to shut it down when it was actually showing interest in something. “You gonna eat that?” He asked, and Virgil shook his head.

 

“No, you can have it.” He said, pushing his plate towards Mark. The man seemed way too eager to get him to eat but Mark grabbed the pickle, and a couple of the fries for good measure. He really didn’t understand his body right then. Couldn’t tolerate the soup but suddenly he wanted that pickle and those fries like nobody’s business. He would have fought someone for them but fortunately Virgil was the obedient type. Oh, he was sure he’d be vomiting them up in the near-future and they wouldn’t taste nearly as good then, but as far as he was concerned, that was future Mark’s problem.

 

“Anyways, look, here’s the thing.” Mark said, directing his pitch… no, plea was probably a better word for it. “This is going to sound pathetic as all hell but… I need him. When he's not around I can't sleep at night. I don't feel safe. He's the only one that gets it. And I can't do this without him. Whatever this is, the thing with the goddesses. The precursor to the war you warned us about. If it means I have to go digging through the bowels of hell to bring him home? Then that’s what I have to do.” Mark said. “I don’t care how crazy it sounds, I don’t care that I’m probably making him into a crutch. I get it, I probably have a number of syndromes talking for me right now, but I promise I’ll work that all out in therapy later. I just need him.” He continued to insist.

 

“I get it.” Virgil piped in. “Can't imagine the wreck I'd be if it were her.” He said, giving Damien a pointed look.

 

Damien sighed a little. “Why'd you have to go and bring her into this?” He asked, as he angrily stabbed at a piece of potato on his place. “Are you just gonna keep running your mouth until I change my mind?” He asked, the question directed at Mark now.

 

“Trust me, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's running my mouth.” Mark said.

 

Damien smirked a little. “That's for damn sure.” He said. “Tell you what. I'll talk to the boss and see what I can do for you.”

 

There was a tense pause in the conversation then. “The boss?” Virgil asked, looking concerned.

 

“Yeah.” Damien said, glancing back to Mark with a bit of a grin. “I'm sure we can work something out. Get you a round trip ticket.” Damien drew his fingers down his chin, seeming to think it over. “Let me talk to him. If you're really that desperate, maybe he can do you a solid.”

 

Mark didn't really like the look on Damien's face, but at this point, he was willing to do anything. Okay, almost anything. “Sure.” He said. “Let's make a deal.”

 

~~

 

Damien left Virgil and Mark alone at their makeshift campsite while he went to go talk to his boss. Mark wasn't sure why Damien needed to do it in person, but according to Virgil there seemed to be a lot of prostrating oneself involved with dealing with the man, and Mark figured he didn't need to be apart of something so fakely ceremonial. He couldn't trust his own mouth when it came to shit like that.

 

Virgil was setting up a second sleeping bag in the back of his truck, presumably for Mark to use. Mark occupied himself with poking at the small fire they'd started for light and warmth. The deserts out here were notorious for two things: being viciously hot in the day, and freezing cold at night. He glanced up when Virgil came back to join him, finally, tossing a bag of marshmallows his way.

 

Mark caught the bag with a grin. “Really, toasted marshmallows?” He asked.

 

“What's wrong with that?” Virgil asked.

 

“It just seems bizarrely normal compared to what we've been discussing all day.” Mark noted. He pulled his stick out of the fire and tore open the bag. He stuck one on the end of his stick and held it over the fire. He gave brief thought to the various germs that could be hanging out on the stick, but he chided himself for it almost immediately after. _What, can't rough it for one night, Markimoo?_

 

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I figured if we were gonna be out here anyways, needing a fire and what not. I mean, why not, right?” He asked. Virgil grabbed a marshmallow from the bag, getting his own set up together.

 

Mark hummed softly. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked him. “You guys didn’t have to help me today. And I’m pretty sure that goddess would have killed me if you hadn’t stepped in.” He said. “I haven’t even thanked you for it, yet.” he realized, feeling kind of guilty. “Shit. Thanks for saving my life.”

 

Virgil snorted a little, as he continued to gather what he needed, so he could come and sit next to Mark. “You never had to thank me. My family has done these…. Nick of time rescues for centuries.” he said. “It’s in the blood, I guess.”  

 

Mark watched the marshmallow begin to darken. He tipped his head to the side, looking to Virgil. “How'd you get mixed up with that asshole anyways?” He asked, conversationally. “No offense or anything, but you seem like way too straight and narrow to be hanging out with the devil's spawn.” He said.

 

“Why would that offend me?” Virgil asked him with a bit of a raised eyebrow. “Actually… I kind of just got out of the hospital a few days ago.”

 

“You're kidding me.” Mark asked, looking over to Virgil. “And you're already killing apeshit goddesses and whatnot?” He asked. “Get out of here. What for?” He asked.

 

Virgil set his stick up at an angle, trying to keep the marshmallow out of the dirt, before moving to tug up the shirt he was wearing. Mark’s eyes widened at the huge bandage he saw covering most of Virgil’s midriff. “Holy shit.” Mark breathed out. “What the hell happened?”

 

“Eh.” Virgil shrugged, as he tugged his shirt back down.. “The usual, honestly. Dayjob wasn’t netting me enough to make rent, so I took on a job to hunt down a group of vamps hanging out in an abandoned building in WeHo.” He said. “But the person paying for my services didn’t exactly do their research. I ended up walking into a nest of twelve vampires, and none of them were all too pleased to see me.”

 

“Shit.” Mark replied. He tugged his marshmallow out of the fire, seeing it sufficiently blackened for his tastes. He gave brief thought to the fact that maybe he shouldn’t be having the sugar when he’s sick, but he hadn’t thrown up the pickle or fries yet, so he figured it was okay. Maybe he wasn’t even sick anymore, maybe the stomach flu had passed? He didn’t think he felt too awful. “How did you survive?”

 

Virgil smiled softly at that. “Girl I knew… I mean, we’re not like… a thing, or anything. We kind of see each other, date a little, but we’re not really a couple. I sent her a text message because I thought I was going to die, and she didn’t want to accept that…”

 

“Wait.” Mark said. “You thought for sure you were dying and you sent the girl you’re ‘totally not a thing with’ a _text message_?” he asked.

 

“She was working.” Virgil explained. “I knew she couldn’t take calls, so…”

 

“Wow.” Mark replied. “You really are a saint.” he said.

 

“Please.” Virgil dismissed the comment with a shake of his head. “Anyways. She came and dragged my ass to a hospital, and… it’s because of her I’m still alive.” He said, his tone taking on an a quiet, almost thoughtful tone. “Then she introduced me to Damien, and told me he could teach me tricks to help me stay alive while I’m out on a job. I guess they’re good friends, but that’s about all I know about it. At any rate, she trusts him.” Virgil said. “How did you meet him?”

 

“Motherfucker kidnapped me in the middle of the night.” Mark answered, shaking his head. “Dragged me out to a graveyard in Colton, that’s how we met. I was unconscious for most of it, but, yeah.”

 

“Oh.” Virgil replied. “Well, that whole thing with the room on fire makes a little more sense now, I suppose. Damien’s ah…. He’s strange, but so far as I can tell, he seems like a good guy.” Mark gave him a skeptical look. Virgil laughed. “No. Honestly. I mean, obviously, he’s made some bad decisions in his life, but he was a teenager back then. We were all stupid teens once. It’s not like he goes out looking for trouble these days.”

 

“Yeah, uh huh.” Mark replied. “Now I’m wondering about you.” He said.

 

“Well.” Virgil said with a grin, taking a big bite out of his marshmallow. “I’m not a terribly good guy. I’m just a guy.” he said.

 

“You couldn’t even say that with a straight face.” Mark noted. “Do you…” Mark paused. “Do you know anything about his boss?” he asked.

 

“Only that you don’t say his name, because it’ll bring his attention down on you.” Virgil replied with a shrug. “And apparently you don’t want that.” He said. “I’m not sure. I’ve never met the guy. Only heard Damien talk about him before. Even then it’s not for very long.” He said.

 

“Great. Sounds like good news for me.” Mark said sarcastically. “What kind of a deal do you think he’ll offer me?”

 

“Honestly, I think you should back out while you still can.” Virgil replied. “But what do I know. Heaven knows what I would do if I was in your position.”

 

“Yeah. Heaven knows.” Mark repeated.

 

The two of them hung out for a while longer, before eventually turning in for the night. Sleeping in an actual truck bed in a sleeping bag under the stars felt like kind of an upgrade for him, lately.

 

~~

 

“This all seems like witch-craft to me.”

 

Virgil shot Mark a look, all one-sided eyebrows almost up to his hairline. “You haven’t done much roughing it before, have you?”

 

“Don’t make fun of a sick man.” Mark returned.

 

Mark hadn’t had a very good morning. He was woken up fairly early by sharp pangs in his stomach, and he just barely made it to the side of Virgil’s truck to vomit. Everything, he was pretty sure, he’d eaten the day before, came back up. The pickle, the fries, the six or so marshmallows. Everything. Present Mark wished pretty fervently that Past Mark had been a little kinder to him. Or at least kinder in his food choices.

 

“I’m not making fun. I would never.” Virgil replied, as he came over with his various supplies to make breakfast. He used one of those water filter bottles to get clean water from the stream. Then, he added said water to a bunch of yellow powder. Stirred it up, fried it in a tiny camping skillet, and somehow ended up with scrambled eggs. Mark was pretty sure that was witch-craft if he’d ever seen it. “My family did a lot of camping, actually. It would have been a nice hobby, if it hadn’t been the precursor to vampire hunting they used to do.”

 

“If you hate it so much, why do you do it?” Mark asked.

 

“The money’s pretty good, actually, if you know who to talk to.” Virgil returned. “But it’s not for me. That’s why I’m going to school. I mean, if we’re being honest, I was never all that good at hunting to begin with. Too apt to befriend the vampires rather than kill them.” Virgil noted, as he dished up some of the eggs. Mark thought there was a story behind that, and he kind of wanted to ask, but that bitter tone to Virgil’s voice made Mark eventually decide against it. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

 

“Not after the kind of morning I’ve had.” Mark replied. “Besides, I threw up in that stream yesterday. So, that’s a little gross, that thing you’re doing.”

 

“I’m pretty sure it would have washed out by now.” Virgil replied with a smirk. “Even if it hadn’t, I used the steripen. It’s fine.”

 

“Yeah, no, I don’t trust that for a minute.” Mark replied, tugging a piece of the sleeping bag back up over his chest. He glanced back out into the desert when he heard the sound of an approaching engine.

 

“The witch came back.” Mark alerted Virgil, who made a face.

 

“Please…” Virgil replied, looking a little stressed. Yeah, Mark was good at doing that to people, stressing them out. “Please don’t call him that to his face, it makes him testy.”

 

Mark hummed. “Imagine a witch getting testy.” he murmured, as he slid out of the sleeping bag. It just kind of tickled Mark to think of Damien as one of those traditional, halloween witches riding around on a broom. The imagery kind of fit him, especially the nose.

 

Virgil stood by as Mark climbed down from the truck bed, kind of gentle-manly making sure Mark didn’t hurt himself, since he’d been throwing up most of the morning. Damien parked his car next to Virgil’s truck, before moving to rejoin the group.

 

Damien, at the very least, looked rather pleased.

 

“You talked to your boss?” Mark asked, crossing his arms over his chest, getting right to the point.

 

“Yes, yes I did.” Damien said, speaking to Mark, as Virgil stood off to the side, looking, well, doubtful, if anything. “And have we got the deal for you.” This was a different Damien than Mark had seen up until now. This Damien was in salesman mode.

 

“You don’t have me selling my soul, right?” Mark asked, slightly suspicious, just because Damien was looking way, way too excited about all of this. Then again, he probably didn’t get a chance to do these kinds of deals particularly often, what with all the waning interest in religion these days. If one doesn’t ascribe themselves to a belief in God, that didn’t lend much hope for his ancient nemesis, either.

 

“No no no, nothing like that.” Damien said. “It’s more of a…. Temporary leasing.” he explained.  He saw the doubtful look on Mark’s face, and quickly began to explain. “See, we can send you down there, and even make it so that once you find your boytoy, you can enable your own way back.” he said. “As it turns out, it actually doesn’t take much energy to do all of that. However, in return for this very small favor, the boss is offering to keep your soul on this plane, and once you return, it will be gifted back to you.” Damien said. “Perfectly undamaged, absolutely free of charge.”

 

“I’m… not sure that’s a good idea.” Virgil put in, looking to Mark. “We don’t know anything about the boss, and now he wants you to trust him with you-”

 

“Virg, the adults, are talking.” Damien reprimanded him. Damien shot a pointed look in Virgil’s direction and the young man seemed…. Enchanted, was the first word to come to Mark’s mind, as Virgil abruptly turned and just kind of walked away. Without another word of protest.

 

Mark looked back to Damien. “I’m assuming there’s a catch involved, here.” he said. “Virgil’s right about that.”

 

“He is right about that.” Damien finally relented. “In the event that you should die, while you’re exploring the various levels of the Underworld, the boss reserves the right to hold onto your soul, to do with as he will, for all of eternity.”

 

“Jesus.” Mark muttered, wiping a hand across his brow as he considered all this information.

 

“What’s the issue?” Damien asked him low, dangerous, a smirk crossing his face. “Just don’t die, and it won’t be a problem for you.”

 

“I…” Mark began to say. There was something off about all of this that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t just that it was an awful deal for him. (Because it very much was.) But there was something else bothering him. He really wished that Damien hadn’t mind-fucked Virgil. It would have been nice to have the other man to run this by. Damien didn’t even really let him finish the thought, either.

 

“Oh come on, Mark, aren’t you tired of having all these immortals shuffling you around like a pawn piece? Control your fate. Why do you hesitate? _This_ is your opportunity.” Damien told him. “This is your chance to be truly free. Nothing holding you back. Be the damn hero for once.”

 

Okay, there was something about that argument that Mark thought he could identify with. He absolutely, positively hated being condescended to by these gods and goddesses. Treating him like he was weak, or dumb, or something lesser just because of how he was born. Even though Milo had improved his attitude markedly, he still got it from the others. And it wasn’t like going down there and bringing Milo back was going to change anyone’s attitude. But it would be something to throw in the face of those fucks trying to control him. _Look, I did that. If I can do that, imagine what else I can do_ …

 

He had to reign himself back a little bit. If he was undertaking this adventure to assuage his own pride, then he was doing this for the wrong reasons. Milo. Milo was down there. He needed to find Milo. He needed to bring him home. ~~He needed to chew him out for the blood spell~~ but also because he was sure that he loved him, and he’d never even told him. How fucked up was that? At the very least, that was something he wanted to set to right.

 

“Okay.” Mark finally said. “Alright. Fine. You got a deal.”

 

Damien grinned brightly at that. With a flourish, he produced a pen and paper for Mark to sign. He half wondered which sleeve Damien had been hiding that in, but he snatched up the pen, took a deep breath and…

 

Signing neatly, right across the dotted line…

 

_Mark Edward Fischbach_

 

“Oh, there is, one more thing.” Damien said, as he turned away.

 

“Should have read the terms and conditions.” Mark mumbled. “Thanks for the head’s up after I already signed, you ass.”

 

“Right.” Damien said, grinning. “At a certain point, the boss is going to require a favor from you.” he said.

 

“What kind of a favor?” Mark asked.

 

“Let’s just worry about that when the time comes.” Damien told him. “And, by the way, we’re not responsible if during your travels, something unsavory should attach itself to the empty husk that is your body and returns with you to this plane.” He said, shooting the information off like he was filling in all the possible side effects at the end of a sleazy medication commercial. “Got it?”

 

“Got it. Good. We done with all that fine print?”  Mark asked. “So now what do I…” Mark didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Damien reached out and grabbed his hand, and everything froze for an instant. Mark thought he saw stars or something, some kind of yellow flecked glow rising up from Damien’s hand as it grasped his. Something felt like it swept through him, ripped from him with the same kind of sensation you’d get from peeling dried glue off of your fingertips, only it was more than just his skin. It was every muscle, every bone. When he blinked he could feel it beneath his eyelids. It moved from him into the strong grasp Damien had on his hand.

 

Afterwards, Mark wondered if he should be feeling something, having his soul yanked out of his body like that, but…. He didn’t feel anything. He didn’t feel much different than he did before. Maybe a little heavier? A little wearier?

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he whipped around, but it was only Virgil. Back from his walk, apparently, and looking very concerned.

 

“Holy shit.” Virgil said, his voice dropping low. He abruptly released his hold on Mark’s shoulder and took a solid step back, moving _away_ from him. It felt a little disconcertingly like he was being repelled. “Are you alright?” He asked Mark. “Your eyes went totally white for a minute.”

 

“I honestly don’t feel any different.” Mark told him with a shrug. It was interesting to have the perspective of someone who watched the whole thing go down, though.

 

“Let him go, Virg.” Damien advised. “The boy has a train to catch.”

 

“Yeah.” Mark said vaguely. Virgil’s reaction had kind of left him a little bit shaken. “Hey, quick question before I go.” he said, holding out a hand to stop Damien, who was acting like he was just on a roll, today. “Once I’ve found Milo, how do I get back? How do I bring him back?” he asked.

 

“Oh…” Damien said, like he hadn’t thought that far ahead. That had literally been a part of the deal, though. That was the whole reason Mark had signed on. The ability to come back home was kind of important to him.

 

“Is that going to be easy for him to do?” Virgil asked with some concern.

 

“He’ll be fine.” Damien replied, thinking it over. “I just need to give him a signal that’ll be easy for him to remember.” He said. “How about this, Dorothy.” he said, clapping his hands and looking back to Mark. “Once you’ve found your Milo, holding onto his hand or arm or dick or whatever you fancy, go ahead and click your heels, three times.” Damien instructed.

 

“What.” Mark replied, raising an eyebrow at Damien. “Literally, just like Dorothy?”

 

“I mean, I could attach to the spell to any gesture.” Damien replied. “This is for you. This is me trying to make things easy on you. When you wish to come home, close your eyes like Dorothy and click your heels three times. That will bring you back to the land of the living.” Damien made another motion with his hands, index and middle finger kind of walking back to him. “And your soul will come rushing back to you.”

 

“Okay, got it.” Mark replied, inclining his head a little. He didn’t get how that worked, but he supposed that did make it easier.

 

He watched as Damien waved his hands in his direction, before sending what looked like a strange, small fireball in his direction. It hit him in the stomach before he could do much to react; raising his hands up a little too late to try and block it. It didn’t hurt him, though. After a moment, Mark felt a little like he was floating.

 

Then, everything went dark.

 

~~

 

Virgil watched, as Mark was magically pushed back several feet away from him. The ground looked to him like it was opening up beneath his feet, and Virgil’s instinct was to try and grab him, but something solid blocked his path. When he glanced down he saw the giant grey wolf, Griever, pressing up hard against his thigh. Keeping him back. Mark was swallowed up by the earth, and just as quickly as everything happened, it mended itself. Soon the area looked completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened there, and Mark? Mark was just gone. Kind of curious, Virgil stepped around the wolf and he actually allowed it. He kicked aside some of the desert pavement, but he didn’t really know what he was looking for.

 

Damien was already seeming to move on, checking over the paper he’d just had Mark sign, before disappearing it the same way he’d pulled it out earlier. Damien finally glanced over,  seeming to remember that, oh yeah, Virgil was still there. “We should go.” Damien said. _Nothing to see here_ , Virgil thought to himself.

 

Virgil gently shook his head. “Mark’s supposed to come back here, right? He’s not going to end up in like, Malibu, or anything, right?” He asked, and Damien nodded.

 

“When he invokes the return spell, yeah, he should appear back here, in the spot that he vacated.” Damien said.

 

“I’d kind of like to wait for him, just in case.” Virgil replied. “You said there was a risk that something might try to follow him out of there.” he pointed out, like that would help make his case.

 

Damien snorted. “ _If_ he comes back. The odds are pretty stacked against him. You could be waiting here for a long, long time.”

 

“Well, all the same.” Virgil replied. “Just in case he needs the help.” He said. “I mean, granted I haven’t known him for very long, but…. Something seems off, here. And if there’s anything I can do…” He trailed off a little. “Can you let her know?” He finally asked.

 

Damien chewed his bottom lip for a moment, before nodding. “Sure. I’ll give her a head’s up.” He said. “Have fun camping alone in the desert.” he said, offering a simple wave, as he turned to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Here's the rant that I've been saving. I kept saying in other chapters, and even back in the last fic I was going to have that rant, and I just kind of never did. Lmao. So here it is.
> 
> I.
> 
> Fucking.
> 
> Hate.
> 
> The New Red Head in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. 
> 
> Oh that's going to make people so fucking mad at me, but I don't care, because for me, as a story-teller, coming at it from the perspective of a story teller it just _sucks._
> 
> Like okay. I get it. A Bridal Auction is not PC. Those women were being shipped off to be either sex slaves or what, just killed? And especially poor Red. The one they kept demanding to bid for. The only one any of those pirates actually wanted. But here's my thing. Uh. Pirates were actually the villains. I know Johnny Depp has been valiantly fighting the sterotype of the pirate-villain for a while now. (....or has he?) So for them to be doing evil things is just in character. And further, as a little girl watching this scene, not once, did I ever look upon that and go, yes, this is how I, as a woman, want to be treated. Like a sexual object. Like come on. I knew it was debasing. 
> 
> But for everyone who bitched and moaned about these elements of this scene, there's something in the ride, much earlier on, that I think ya'll missed. You ready? Here it is. [My Queen](https://www.google.com/search?q=marc+davis+portrait+of+things+to+come&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS799US799&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiWs-rp_qHhAhUK4oMKHVG7DIoQ_AUIDigB&biw=1366&bih=695)
> 
> Marc Davis' "A Portrait of Things to Come." Guys. The ride is structured so that you're seeing what happened to the pirates first. In the second act, you see what they were like when they were still alive. If you don't get that, the only [good change](https://i1273.photobucket.com/albums/y409/detectiveplotpoint/new%20favorite%20character_zpsqd2izbem.jpg) they've made to the ride in recent years will help you to understand. (Yeah it's not my picture, but I just googled it sooooo) Anyways. You're literally watching them after they've died, and then moving on to see them in life. And I don't know about ya'll, but it looks to me like Red ended up doing pretty damn good for herself. Retired on an island while cherubs refill her wine glass yeah, we should all be so lucky. She went from the lowest of the low, and worked her way up, and became a pirate Queen. Did, any of those asshole pirates who actually bid on her do as well as she did? Uh, fuck no. Most of them ended up squabbling over their riches and eventually killed each other. And the few of them that actually did make off with some kind of wealth? What good did their wealth do them, dying alone? 
> 
> As a child, that was the story that I took to heart, because it taught me that your situation doesn't matter. No matter how brought low you are, you have the power to do something. You can fight your way to the top. To me, that's inspiring. Tell me, what's Red's story now, without the bridal auction? Oh, I see. Now she's just an evil bitch, taking advantage of some poor and elderly people. Wow, so _empowering._ (Also, her dialogue is pretty cringey if you actually listen to it.)
> 
> So what does my possibly controversial opinion that is about to make everyone hate me have to do with this story? Well, I did spend almost the entirety of the last fic beating the ever-loving shit out of Mark. Then I felt like I gave him no way to really recover from that loss of power. There was no climbing out of that pit I threw him into. And I thought to myself that that was just as bad as what happened to Red. They took away that tragic event that made her a compelling character. But at the same time, I can't throw a ton of shit at Mark without giving him some way to fight back. Because then, that's just fucking sad, isn't it?
> 
> So that's what the rest of this fic is going to be about. Mark learning to fight back. Him reclaiming that power. That's why I felt like the last fic needed a sequel. And it's likely that this fic is going to get a sequel too. (I'm kind of actually already building up to it. Yeah, I was building up to this one in Chapter 3 of the last one too. That's kind of funny. Chapter 3 of the prequel to this fic has spoilers to end of this one. Bet you didn't see that one coming.) 
> 
> Okay, I better shut the hell up, I have more writing to do. Also I'm glad I've run into other feminists with the same opinions as me, because otherwise, I'd feel so fucking alone in the world. Lmao.


	4. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn, I struggled with this chapter. And right off the tail of the last one, when i had felt bad for how long that one took me. I don't know what it was, if it was birthday depression, or hormones or what, but it took me forever to find a good feel for this chapter. And after struggling with it was a couple of days I just decided, you know what, I'm just going to take my time with it, and make it as nice as I can, and however long it takes me, that's just how long it takes me. I hope the work and determination pays off. 
> 
> I also feel like this chapter is going to give away A LOT. Honestly I've been hinting around the big thing that I chose not to warn about a lot, but I feel like this chapter is going to make it super obvious. I still don't feel like I can put any warnings anywhere though, even in the end notes, because the big reveal is still being led up to. But like I said, I feel like this chapter made what's happening here pretty fucking obvious, so maybe that'll be warning enough for now? IDK. I just hope I don't upset anyone. (Which is funny considering how opinionated I can get in these writer's notes, lmao.)

Mark felt something soft graze against his cheek. It started as a soft, vague brushing sensation, that then narrowed, feeling like a something very scrawny was trying to tickle him. When that tickle turned to an itch he finally began to wake up. He groaned unhappily, placing his hand over his cheek to try and knock away whatever was touching him and…

 

He felt a tiny hand under his for a brief moment, someone far too small to be an adult. That caused him to sober up real damn fast. 

 

He shot up into a sitting position, and startled a girl who was hunkered down nearby. 

 

“Don't move.” She warned him, and Mark dimly realized afterwards that she was holding a knife to his throat.  _ His own _ knife. How long had he been out that this girl could search through his pockets and steal that knife without him noticing? She was young, too, he guessed that she couldn’t have been more than ten. She had long, brown hair messily pulled back into a ponytail, tied up with a pale pink scrunchie, and she possessed some seriously dark eyes. Further…. Well there was something else about her that was strangely familiar, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Like he’d seen her before, but he couldn’t place where. Maybe a missing kids poster somewhere? Back of a milk carton? He was starting to wish he’d paid more attention to those things. 

 

Mark took a moment to assess his surroundings. He’d been laying in the middle of a field. There seemed to be some kind of a fog, hovering down just above the long, uncared for strands of grass. There were long, clumps of white flowers dispersed here and there, scattered in groups around him. He could make out more of the bushes in the distance, half hidden in the fog. They were pretty, but they gave him an odd sense of mourning, of loss. The fog always seemed to be flickering, like there was something…. Living, moving inside of it. Every color in this realm seemed muted, like someone had lazily slapped a sepia filter onto it, but he supposed that if this was Hell, then that made a certain amount of sense. He would expect everything to be dark, muted and grey.

 

He looked to the little girl once more, gently raising his hands in surrender. 

 

“Hey? It’s okay.” He tried to assure her, and she pushed herself up from her kneeling position beside him, grabbing a plain blue backpack that was sitting beside her. She took several steps away from him, putting a good amount of distance between them. That was as unwelcoming as a gesture as one he’d ever seen so he decided to just stay where he was. He didn’t want to scare her, when she already seemed very much on edge, and given their location, yeah, he could totally understand that. Actually, it kind of made him wonder how she had gotten there in the first place. He knew the kind of deal he’d made just to get down there, and thinking of a kid making some similar kind of of arrangement made him pretty uncomfortable.

 

The girl flicked his knife closed like she’d been performing the motion for years. Which was…. A little bizarre, he had to admit. It took him a while to learn how to do some basic stuff without cutting himself, and he had the scars on his knuckles to prove it. He almost wanted to look at her hands but she’d moved too far away from him for him to do so easily.  After tucking the blade into her pants pocket, she began to perform a series of hand motions in his direction. 

 

Mark stared at her completely blank faced. 

 

She tipped her head to the side, looking frustrated with him. She pointed her hand in his direction again, tapped the index and middle fingers of both hands together, and finished off the set with another flat palmed motion, and Mark suddenly realized. She was using sign language. Which, again, was strange, because he was pretty sure she had spoken to him earlier, and he hadn’t been just hearing things. 

 

That left him with a problem, because the last time he remembered learning any sign language was in elementary school, and that was just learning the alphabet. He hadn’t learned anything much more than that, otherwise he would try to accommodate her. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.” he told her. He didn’t want to be the asshole talking to her slower if she honestly couldn’t understand him. But he thought he’d heard that people who use sign language sometimes also learned to read lips too? He hoped that was the case for her, or he was going to look really, really dumb right about then. 

 

She frowned at him again, long enough for Mark to think that he was just being an asshole. Then with a small sigh and a shake of her head she turned around and began to walk away from him. 

 

“Hey!” Mark called after her. He pushed himself off of the ground and began to pursue the girl, who wasn’t quite running from him, but she was moving at a pretty good clip anyways. Through the tall grass, passing by bushes filled with those skeletal white flowers. He couldn’t help but notice as he did, the way the fog would move around them, closing in, then moving out of their way as he and the girl moved forward across the field. It was like the fog was making giant circles around them, like they were drops of oil splashed into a container of water. It was weird, and he felt like he wasn't dealing with a normal fog, but then again, he wasn’t thinking about it all too hard either. He wanted his knife back, first. He could examine all this new shit later. “Where are you taking... ? I need that knife!” He called after her. 

 

“I'm a kid!” She called back to him, not slowing down at all. “I need it more than you.” 

 

“Debatable!” He was fully prepared to argue with her logic there (Before he realized he would be literally arguing with a child, and he was, in theory at any rate, an adult,) when he heard a very, very loud noise. Like the beginning tremblings of an earthquake, that whip-like snap you always heard first, right before the land moved and shook you to the ground. The girl in front of him came to a very abrupt stop. She clutched her backpack tight to her chest, slowly turning around, and just following her frightened gaze, Mark found himself doing the same. 

 

The girl let out a scream.

 

The demon rising up from the mists looked almost like a decomposing bull at first, rearing up on hind legs, it’s skin and muscle hanging from it in loose strands. It’s skull resembled a bull’s skull, or maybe a very large goat’s, while the rest of the body looked like maybe at one point, it could have belonged to a human.  Then as Mark watched, flame began to flick up its body, starting at it’s toes, moving over it’s skin, until all that was left of the infernal being was a towering inferno. 

 

“Oh ballsacks.” Mark swore. When he turned back to the girl she had already taken off running, fighting her way through the field. Smart kid, just left him to get eaten by the demons, and didn’t even wait for him to get his bearings. He went to follow her, running with her at first, because despite the way she was acting, like she was so cool and brave, she was still just a kid. Down here, of all places, alone. He couldn’t help but feel kind of protective of her.  

 

He also had the feeling that this thing, whatever it was, it wasn’t actually after him, it wanted the girl. It seemed entirely focused on her, and he felt like he needed to test this theory.

 

As it pursued them through the fields, Mark looked for some kind of way to stop it. Running through the tall grass, he managed to locate and pick up a largish sort of rock, about the size of a baseball. He paused just long enough to turn around, wound it up, and sent it directly into the skull of the demon. He put enough force behind the throw that it let out a loud crack when it struck its target. The demon let out a screeching wail, it’s head snapping back, two fiery, clawed hands moving to cover the place where Mark had nailed it. 

 

Mark hooted out his victory, and quickly turned back to the girl, but by the time he did she was pretty much disappeared. Apparently, his distraction had worked but now, that left him alone with the likely pissed off demon. He really wished he still had his knife, because he wasn’t about to pull out the ‘fuck me’ pendant for this. No, Mark had bigger fish to fry with it.

 

However, with the girl gone the demon didn’t seem any kind of interested in dealing with Mark. It just kind of aimlessly stood, its gaze scanning the local area, trying to find her, before eventually drifting off, following a path through the meadow that Mark could just barely make out himself. 

 

Mark was already hating this place. He tried to follow off where he thought the girl had went, while he considered his options. This place. Wherever this was. Damien had said that Hell had levels. Layers of sin to navigate through. He probably should have asked him a few more questions about that before he’d taken off. Or let Damien send him off, because it wasn’t like the man had given him any time to prepare. 

 

He paused, thinking that he could hear the sound of a river nearby. It seemed kind of logical to him to think that maybe that was something he could use to orient himself. Further, being something of a sea creature, he figured it would be something that Milo would likely hang out around. If he was going to find Milo, in this place, with all of its various levels and apparently confusing layout, he ought to start with the most obvious places, right? As he moved towards it he watched the fog swirl around him. He’d never get over how unreal everything seemed to him here. He almost stopped suddenly when he thought he saw a face, peering at him through the fog. It was incredibly quick, a flash in the corner of his eye. But it got his attention enough that he actually turned to get a better look…

 

Mark gasped and automatically jumped back, actually managing to stumble into the fog before it could move away from him.

 

And that was when he realized.

 

It wasn’t a fog. 

 

It was the  _ dead _ .

 

Thousands and thousands, of dead, men and women, looking exactly as they did when they had died. Now that he’d seen it, hidden in plain sight, he couldn’t unsee it. Patterns were shifting. An elderly woman with one hand outstretched in his direction. Another ghost dressed in leather armor, like he’d been riding a motorcycle when he’d suddenly died, holding his own decapitated head in a bucket helmet. A man in green period clothing looking like he’d stepped out of a Victorian portrait, with strange bumps and dark red patches across his skin. From his lips and nose dripped bile that was a ghastly bright color of green.

 

Mark jumped out of the way of a hand reaching towards him, trying to grab onto the sweater he was wearing. That particular ghost, whose caved in chest made it kind of obvious how he died, gave him a look like  _ he  _ was the one acting strange. He was sure that the noise that came out of him when he fell back probably only attracted more of them, and speaking of which, was that circle of so called fog growing tighter around him? 

 

Mark dropped down to one knee, his breathing suddenly coming hard and fast, his heart pounding in his chest, almost fluttering, like it was losing its strength and was preparing to fail him at any minute. Pain seared across his chest, heat flaring up in his belly, with precise timing. He felt dizzy, his limbs were going numb. His body locked up and he felt like he couldn’t move, like the pressure around him was just too great. He felt like he was going to die, but he knew it was a panic attack. Which was just great timing, as usual, for these, only this time he couldn’t just reach out and grab onto Milo. He didn’t have the man to tug him in and assure him that it was going to be okay. He didn’t have that gentle caress brushing through his hair, or that warm voice in his ear. He wasn’t safe at home with the other man, he was stuck here, in this horrible place, with death literally all around him and Milo nowhere to be seen. 

 

He was going to have to talk himself out of this one, and he was much much better at making himself panic harder about things than talking himself down. He placed a hand over his heart, gently rubbing the muscle there, which helped to disperse some of the searing chest pain. He took a steady, deep breath, counting up to five before releasing it slowly. It took a couple of minutes of this before he was even close to calm. 

 

It kind of helped that the dead hanging around him just kind of stood back and let him work through it. There was no emotion on anyone’s faces, no sign that any of them cared what was happening to him. Only the faintest curiosity lingered on their faces, and after examining him for a second or two, they seemed to just move on, as another ghost took it’s place. There was a soft murmur in the air, many quiet voices rising up above the fog, but nothing that was directed specifically at him. They were utterly indifferent. It took him a bit to work up the courage to stand again. He closed his eyes, having to concentrate on his breathing before he felt like he could move again, and when he did move, it was very, very carefully. Every step forward he could see the dead ebbing and flowing around him like an errant tide, before eventually moving out of his way. 

 

With his wits about him once again, his resolve hardened, and he made his way for the river once more.

 

Once he reached it, he finally seemed to break away from the fog. Free on the banks of the river, he hunched over, placing his hands on his knees as he worked through the last traces of the panic he still felt, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. The dead hovered back behind him, still watching him, but not approaching. The way they kept clear from the bank of the river made him very, very wary, and he looked over to it, peering in like he expected some creature to come out of it and snap at him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it did, while he was standing there, so close. 

 

The water bubbling in front of him was probably the clearest he’d ever seen. That seemed like an odd detail for him to notice, and out of curiosity he moved a little bit closer, trying to get a better look.

 

“Don’t drink that.” That small, familiar voice warned him. Mark glanced over to see the little girl sitting nearby. It shouldn’t have been a relief to see that she looked a little fragile herself, right then. There were dirty tear streaks running down her cheeks that she probably dried off on a sleeve, before she worked up the courage to even speak to him again. She frowned at her wavering reflection in the river, glaring hard into the water. “You’ll forget everything.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna.” Mark said, straightening up a little. “How do you know?” Mark asked her. He wasn’t terribly surprised to have found her again so quickly. They had started running off in the same direction after all.

 

“Don’t know why I’m bothering to help you.” The girl mumbled, glancing to her backpack sitting beside her. “I really shouldn’t, you’re not even real. Fine. Drink the water. Drink a whole lot of it. I have way more important stuff to be doing than helping you.” 

 

Mark noted then that she had shoved his knife into the mesh side pocket of her back pack. He didn’t know what the reason was, if it was for ease of access or something to that effect, but what he did see was the opportunity for him to get his knife back. 

 

He had to keep her talking. 

 

“What do you mean I’m not real? I’m pretty sure I’m real. Last time I checked, I was pretty corporeal. And… where are we anyways?” He asked her, and she shot him a look. 

 

“You know why you’re not real.” She told him, giving him a glare like he was fucking with her and she didn’t appreciate it. “We’re in Asphodel, this is where you go when you’ve lived an utterly unremarkable life. This river is Lethe. When you drink from it, you lose your identity.” She said. “Which is perfect for you.” She said, her voice sarcastically sweet and obviously mocking. “Drink this and find another identity to steal, demon.” She began to stand up, moving to gingerly pick up the backpack. Already on the move again. 

 

“I’m not a demon….” Mark protested, but she really didn’t seem to care. As she shifted to pull the straps of her backpack over her shoulders, Mark moved, quickly sticking his hand into the pocket and yanking out his knife. The girl turned on him immediately, outraged. “Give that back!” She demanded, as Mark held it up over both their heads, keeping the knife out of her reach.

 

“Oh yeah, trust a kid with a knife, I think the hell not.” Mark told her, as he kept her back at an arm’s length, which really was more than he even needed. She swiped her arms at him, every strike missing him as she tried to push herself in and grab the knife again. Short legs tried in vain to hop up, or climb him in some kind of way, but Mark easily thwarted her by placing a hand over the top of her head and just pushing down.

 

Mark made a show of checking his watch, the one on the hand he was holding the knife with. “Ya done yet?” He asked, looking back down to the little girl.

 

She huffed so hard it actually looked for a moment that she’d squeezed every last atom of air from her lungs. Her shoulders drooped and she hunched over a bit. It was kind of adorable, the little tantrum coming out of her. 

 

“Fine.” she replied, pulling away from him. She was dusting off her clothes like he’d somehow smudged them with his filthy, disgusting presence. She fixed her hair, and finally tightened her ponytail, which amused the hell out of him. She was trying real hard not to seem as outraged as she clearly did.  “Fine, whatever, keep it. See what I care.” She said, swiping her backpack up and pulling it around hard. “I don’t care. There’s probably better knives out there.” 

 

And since Milo had gifted him this one, Mark figured he could safely disagree. “You sound like you care a lot.” He told her, watching as she turned from him, beginning to walk away. “Hey. Hold on!” 

 

“I have nothing to say to you!” The girl replied, moving pretty deftly over the landscape. 

 

“Why not, I helped you out back there.” Mark replied. He glanced over to where the fog was…. Kind of creepily hovering close. For some reason, the dead kept a pretty good distance from the river, so, maybe there was something to that thing the girl was telling him earlier. He crept along the banks too, following in the girl’s careful footsteps. “Can you tell me your name?” 

 

“Nope.” The girl replied. “Told you, you have to die. I’m not giving you anything. An. E. Thing!” She insisted. She paused, turning back around to look at him, her ponytail briefly swinging into her face. “And honestly, I’d rather not see it.” She told him with a frown. “So if you could like, not follow me, that would be…” She made kind of a motion with her hand, ending it in a thumbs up and popping her lips at him. “That would be great.” She said. 

 

“Well that seems a little extreme.” Mark sighed a little, pausing in response to her gentle request. “Okay, fine.” he said, looking to her. “It’s just that…. You might not have noticed, but all the rest of our company out here is…” He waved vaguely towards the fog. “It’s little dead here. You’re the only other living being I have met in the hour or so that I’ve been trapped here so I was kind of hoping we could…. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Work together?” He offered. “Help each other out.”    
  


The girl frowned at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t trust you.” she told him. 

 

“That’s fine.” Mark told her. “Because honestly, I don’t trust you, either, after you tried to steal my knife and slit open my throat, but I’m willing to give you a chance.” he said. “Maybe we can help each other or something.” 

 

The girl still looked skeptical. “You do seem kind of hopelessly lost…” She noted, after giving it a moment’s thought. “I mean… I guess if you were fully demon… you’d probably have a better grasp of what this place actually is.” she said. 

 

“Good point.” he said, angling his jaw a bit at the subtle jab. 

 

“Unless you’re pretending to be stupid to trick me.” She reasoned further, narrowing her eyes at him again. Mark shook his head. 

 

“Oh trust me.” he drawled. “I don’t have to pretend to be that.” he said. 

 

The girl nodded pretty vigorously at that, which Mark also felt like a jab. His state of affairs was looking more and more dire by the second, fully represented by just how little confidence this kid had in him. “I’m looking for someone.” She finally admitted to him. 

 

“Me too.” Mark told her quietly. “My name is Mark. Who are you looking for?” He asked her.

 

“My dad. And… I’m not giving you my name.” She decided. 

 

“Fair enough.” Mark decided. “Get ready for me to call you kid a whole heckin’ lot then.” 

 

“Fine.” She sighed a little, twisting the straps of her backpack nervously. “I was playing with something I shouldn’t have… and I ended up here.” She muttered. “He offered to trade places with me so that I could catch a ride home.” She said. “I was disobedient. And he’s the one suffering for it.” She admitted, looking to him. “I didn’t take the ride.” She told him softly. “I can’t leave without him.” 

 

Mark nodded solemnly, but he could feel kind of a pang in his heart at that. That was the sort of thing that really got to him. It made him think of all the times his own parents made sacrifices for him while he was growing up. Fortunately it had never been anything like that, but it still hit him, every so often. He’d been kind of a terror, growing up too. “I’m looking for my idiot boyfriend who occasionally does daytrips down here. Like an idiot.” Mark said, shrugging a little. “Or he could be dead. The witch couldn’t tell me for sure.” he said. 

 

The girl blinked at him for a moment. “Now I’m unsure of you again.” She said. 

 

“Can’t even blame you.” Mark shrugged. “My life’s taken a turn for the weird lately.” he thought that statement over and finally amended it. “Actually, never mind. It's always been a little weird.”

 

“Yeah, I think I can tell.” She said, glancing back out over the river. “So, here’s how this works.” She began to explain. “The way my dad explained it... There are five rivers.” She said. “Cocytus flows into the river Acheron, where Charon brings the dead to the Underworld.” She said. “Which is where I missed my ride.” She shrugged a little. There was an air the girl was trying to put on, Mark caught onto pretty quickly. She was trying to look a lot braver about the idea than she actually was. Maybe it was just that he recognized those attempts in himself, but he couldn’t say for certain. “Acheron flows into Lethe, which is where we are. The dead drink the water here and forget their entire existence. That’s why I stopped you earlier.” She further explained. 

 

“That seems a little sad.” He said. “Why do they do that?” 

 

“I… I don’t know.” She eventually admitted. “My dad told me once that it was so they wouldn’t be sad over what they left behind. After they drink their lose their memories, their personalities, all emotions.” She told him.

 

“But at the cost of losing themselves?” Mark said. “I don’t…. I don’t think I could do that.” 

 

“I’m not so sure you get a choice.” The girl said with a shrug. “Lethe flows into Phlegethon. Phlegethon is called the River of Fire, because it’s boiling hot with the blood of sinners. Men and women who have committed violent acts against their fellow man.” She told him. “You have to be careful there, because they will grab you and tug you in, in their own desperation to get out.” She said. “Phlegethon flows into Tartarus. Where demons punish and torment the sinners. That’s where they’re keeping my dad.” She said, gritting her teeth a little. “That’s where I’m trying to get to.” She said.

 

“That sounds… not good.” Mark said. That sounded like the last place either of them needed to go to, but maybe he’d find some kind of hint as to where Milo was? It wasn’t like anyone around here was talking. Maybe he could get something out of the demons. One of them just  _ had _ to have a super-villain speech they’ve kept in storage for centuries, just waiting for some lost, lowly human like him to stumble into their domain.“Your dad just casually talks to you about the after-life?”

 

“Isn’t that just what Sunday school is?” She asked, and Mark shrugged. He had to give her that one, that was definitely all of his experiences with Sunday school. And Church, for that matter..

 

“Well, I have no idea where my boyfriend could have ended up.” Mark finally admitted to her. 

 

She tipped her head to the side. “You don’t even know if he’s dead.” She recalled. “There’s… couple of places he could be. I mean, you loved him, right? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, so I don’t think he’d be in the Mourning Fields.” She said thoughtfully. “If he’s here in Asphodel then… He might not even remember you.” She said, regretfully.

 

“Is there a way to reverse that whole, forgetting your past life, thing?” Mark asked her warily, and she nodded. 

 

She shrugged. “I mean, maybe. He could be okay if he knew to drink from Mnemosyne instead. But I guess it’s pointless to consider until you find him.”    
  
“True.” Mark nodded at that. “What are the other options?” He asked. 

 

“Tartarus, where they torment the sinners.” She said. 

 

“Ah, good, how could I forget. That’s where you’re headed right?” Mark made a bit of a face at that. “But all of this is assuming he is dead, right?” He asked. “And I'd have no hope of bringing him back anyways.” 

 

“Well, I wouldn't say that either.” She said, trudging along the banks of the river. “Come on.” She gently beckoned him. “We shouldn't wait too long in one spot.” 

 

Mark at least agreed with that.

 

“So are you saying there would be a way to bring him back if he was dead?” Mark asked her.

 

“It's been done, but the odds are against you.” She said. “They work hard to keep the dead here, or the living would be overrun.” 

 

“Well, I'll keep that in mind.” Mark said thoughtfully. At this point there was no sense in worrying about it. He had to find the man, first.

 

~~

 

“So what was that thing following you?” Mark asked, after marching along in silence behind the girl for a while. At this point the fog was finally beginning to thin out, the tall grasses that bordered the banks of the river were becoming more scarce. It felt like they were preparing to make a transition. Even the water didn't seem as clear as it once did.

 

“You wait til now to ask me?” The girl shot him a look. “I don't know what it is. It's been following me since I told the ferryman to… ah… my dad probably wouldn’t be happy with the language I used.” She said, giving a rather pointed look to the ground. 

 

“It looked like some kind of crazy goat demon.” Mark said, just conversationally. The girl was actually pretty quiet, and never seemed all that interested in speaking to him. He wasn't sure if that was just her personality, or if she still had her doubts about him. He supposed the case could be either.

 

“Yeah.” She frowned a little. “It might just be trying to send me home. I have no idea.” 

 

“That's what your dad wanted for you.” Mark noted softly. “I think it says a lot about him, what he was willing to do for you.” He said. 

 

“I don't want to talk about it.” The girl snapped. Mark glanced over to her, seeing the almost bitter look on her face. He concentrated back on the path along the river, feeling like the conversation had been effectively shut down, when she spoke up again. “He's an idiot.” She finally added, voice soft. 

 

Mark shook his head immediately. “He's not.” He told her softly. “He's just a dad.”

 

The girl glanced back up to him again, the look on her face suggesting that she might cry again. But she shook it off, as quickly as he saw it. 

 

Her pace quickened, and Mark adjusted his own to keep up with her.

 

After a while, the fields faded out entirely, the terrain switching to something much rockier, black and jagged, much more difficult to walk through. Mark found himself balancing on various rocks, jumping from one to the next, having to steady himself to keep from sliding off. The rocks were all kind of precariously perched on top of each other, like the desert pavement in Hellhole Canyon, just a little more dangerous. The girl seemed like she was having a far easier time than he was finding a path, so he tried to just follow along behind her.

 

Rising up out of the distance Mark saw what looked like a very jagged mountain range. It rose up far above their heads, the peaks of it scraping along dark, almost blackened clouds, or, maybe that was smoke? The smell of sulphur was nearly overpowering. It actually kind of reminded him of driving by the Salton Sea the day before, although that seemed like a lifetime ago now. As they got closer, the girl beside him began to look more determined, beginning to move a little faster which was just turning out to be hell for Mark, having to keep his balance moving across this difficult terrain. He was pretty sure he nearly ended up smashing his pretty face against the rocks a good number of times. She eventually stopped him, bringing him up short so fast he had to catch himself from crashing into her. “We need to talk about some the demons, now that we’re almost there.” She told him. 

 

“Yeah?” He asked her. “Why?”

 

“Once we get past Cerberus… leave him to me, by the way.” she gently warned him. “They’re not all fallen angels. Some of them are just humans, who were so wretched, they were given a higher position in order to torment other sinners. They were just that good at being evil while they were still alive.” She told him. 

 

“I’m guessing we can’t be seen by them either.” Mark asked, and she nodded. 

 

“They’ll kill us.” She told him. “Without question.”

 

He nodded. He liked to think he’d gotten pretty good at sneaking around in dank, dark, depressing places. That was every other horror game he’d ever played. He shook his head a little at the thought, because he really needed to stop treating everything like a video game while he was down there. There was no reloading if he managed to die down here, and what he’d left behind he couldn’t afford to lose. “Why leave the dog demon to you?” He asked her.

 

“Because I brought him snacks.” She replied, adjusting her backpack a little. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to cross into Tartarus. I’ll distract him, and while he’s eating just keep your head down and make for the gates.” She explained, like it was just that simple. 

 

“I’m… not so sure about that plan.” Mark told her. The last thing he felt like he needed to see was a monster chowing down on the poor little girl. After everything else he’d seen today, he just didn’t think his heart could handle it. Of course, maybe he was judging the situation unfairly and she was perfectly capable of handling the thing herself, but he still pretty strongly felt that protectiveness over her. Just from what she’d told him, it seemed like she’d been through enough. Besides, he was a dog person, he could probably handle the cute little three-headed poochy. “Why not let me take the snacks, and you sneak in while _ I’m  _ distracting him?” He asked. 

 

“What, don’t you think I can do it?” She asked him, shooting him a little glare. 

 

“It’s not that.” Mark told her right away. “I’d just worry about him snapping at you.” He said.  “Giant, three-headed dog that spews up poison bile, right?” He asked her. 

 

She looked a little surprised at that. “You know?” She asked. 

 

“Yeah, I watched Hercules with Kevin Sorbo growing up. I was thoroughly prepared for this reality.” Mark replied, shooting her a confident grin. He waved his hand at the backpack. “Let me handle him.” He gently requested again. 

 

She still seemed a little unsure, but she eventually slipped open her backpack and pulled out…. A package of honey buns. 

 

Mark couldn’t help snickering at that. “Really?” He asked her. “The ancient evil is going to be tamed by honey buns? I just… really?” 

 

“It’s all I had. It’s not like I had time to grab anything else when I was dragged kicking and screaming into the Underworld. Just what my dad packed for me.” The girl replied, looking to him, clearly offended. “It’ll work. He has a sweet tooth. I’ve heard about it.” 

 

“Point taken.” He said. “So while he’s gnawing on my flailing corpse like a milkbone, you promise me you get in there and save your dad okay?” Mark told her, half joking, and not expecting at all to see the pained look on the girl’s face. It actually caught him off guard.

 

“Don’t say that.” She requested softly. “It’ll work. It has to. We both survive this, because we probably won’t survive Tartarus.”

 

Mark thought that was a dismal point of view to have. He made a bit of a face at it. Now he just felt like an asshole. Which hey, that was his mode just about 99% of the time. But of all the reactions he expected out of her, that wasn’t really one of them. “I didn’t mean to upset you…” 

 

“Never mind.” She said quickly, turning back towards the path she was fearlessly cutting. “Let’s just go.”

 

~~

 

Both Mark and the girl heard the beast as they approached, long before they actually saw it. Mark figured that the strange, sort of yawning sound he heard in the distance was actually Cerberus. It wasn’t howling like he’d suspected from the creature. It sounded more like one of the roars you’d hear in  _ Jurassic Park _ . 

 

The girl froze up when she heard it, going abruptly still. Which, as much as Mark thought he could admire her bravery, he also couldn’t buy that she thought she was going to handle this thing when she seemed so obviously terrified of it. On that note, the fact that she  _ was _ so scared of it made him wonder what she’d seen, while she was down here. 

 

And what that might mean for the two of them…

 

“You’ve got the honey bun, right?” She asked, looking over to him, and he made a noise.

 

“Yeah, it’s safe.” He assured her. 

 

“Okay. I’m going to… I’ll hide by the gate when we get up there.” She said. “Don’t get too close to it. Just…. Put the snack on the ground, let it find it.” she said.

 

“Hey.” Mark said, playfully fake punching her shoulder. “I got this. It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” he tried to assure her. She still looked worried, and honestly, probably rightly so, but she apparently decided to let it go. She pulled away from him without another word, getting herself ready to pull out her part of their plan.

 

It didn’t take too much longer to find the actual gates she was referring to, nor the beast that was guarding them.

 

The gates were large, and didn’t resemble actual gates so much as a huge outcropping of rocks, with maybe a few rocks knocked aside on either side of the now blood red river. Just enough room for one or, maybe two foolish mortals to carefully slide (while warily watching the water to make sure they don’t accidentally slip in)  along the bank of the river and cross into the infernal lands. 

 

Cerberus was huge. Maybe about the size of a horse. His body was solidly black, his short fur looked like it was held in mis-matched patches. On closer inspection though, Mark realized it crossed and overlaid with welts that had healed improperly and left huge scars behind. A sign of how long the beast had been fighting to keep the damned in their place.

 

Mark saw a huge boulder, one of many jutting up precariously from the awful terrain, that would work to block the creature’s sight from their careful approach, and he ducked behind it. He kept an eye on the creature, watching how it kept guard. For now at least, it wasn’t moving, but it’s six pairs of eyes were watching the surroundings, keeping an eye out for intruders, he supposed. Mark looked to his left, expecting to see the girl beside him and found nothing. He had a moment of panic until he realized she was much further behind him, almost paralyzed with fear as she watched the monstrous dog, as it kept its careful watch.

 

“Kid.” He hissed at her, and she quickly shook herself out of it. 

 

“Sorry.” She whispered, seeming to remember herself. She quickly moved to stand next to him, peering around him to watch the creature too.

 

Mark studied her for a long moment. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her. He had the feeling that he was probably going to have to make this journey no matter what. Something about that felt fated to him, and he couldn’t really explain it. But if she was having second thoughts, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to. He could take her someplace safer, and she could wait for him while he made the actual journey into Tartarus. Maybe she could even go and apologize, take that ride out of here like her father had wanted. Mark would have helped her if she wanted it. 

 

“Mark.” The girl instead said solemnly. “I called the ferryman an cock-gobbling ass monster. There’s no going back after that.” 

 

Mark couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. “You called him a what?”

 

“Sh sh sh sh!” She abruptly scolded him. It was a good thing she did, too, because Cerberus was instantly alerted to them, and the monster shifted slightly in their direction. Mark made a soft noise of panic and grabbed the girl by her shoulders, tugging her further behind the boulder with him. 

 

There was a long silence that seemed to stretch on forever, both Mark and the girl holding their collective breaths. After a while, the creature seemed to settle again, moving back into its original position. 

 

The girl looked up to Mark. “I should get going.” She said softly. Mark nodded. 

 

“Be careful kiddo.” he said to her. “See you on the other side.” He snorted. “Literally.” 

 

She moved past him, sneaking very quietly towards the gate. Mark watched as she tiptoed carefully over the ground, stepping carefully over the jagged rocks that littered everything. He waited until she got close, and then, as loud as he could, he whistled, stepping out from his own hiding place. 

 

Cerberus growled, all three heads whipping in his direction. 

 

Mark tore open the honey bun package, doing as the girl told him to. As Cerberus approached, Mark set it on the ground and backed away, checking just briefly to make sure she had made it. He couldn’t see her anymore, and he hoped that that was a good thing. While the beast’s three heads snapped at each other, fighting over the pastry, Mark himself made for the gate.

 

He crossed into Tartarus with relative ease, thinking to himself that, maybe Damien was right, at least about one thing. Getting into Hell was easy. 

 

Getting out was definitely going to be a bitch. 

 

“Mark!” 

 

He looked up, seeing the girl gently beckon him towards her. She’d found herself another boulder to hide against, and she had one hand pressed against it, as she waited for Mark. 

 

“We did it!” Mark mouthed at her, and she nodded looking about the most excited he’d ever seen her. She gave him a little smile. He grinned back at her in return.

 

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, the demon who’d been chasing the girl earlier reared up behind her, rising up from the ground itself, leaving a huge chasm in its wake.

 

Mark’s face fell and he tried to run to her. “Kid!” 

 

She didn’t even have time to turn around and fully face the threat. The demon grabbed her, and tugged her with him into the gaping hole. After they disappeared, rocks and dirt of various sizes began to fill it. By the time Mark reached it it was as if the girl and demon had never even been there, and he could only make out the muffled echo of her screams as she was buried alive in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So can I just say? So nice of Mark to have an existential crisis video posted the day before my FUCKING BIRTHDAY which has historically always been a day of crisis for me. (I don't have good birthdays, I just have birthdays where I think about my life and panic at the dumpster fire it's turned out to be.) I do have to say though, (which is funny because apparently enough of the fans panicked about it enough that he had to make another video explaining that he wasn't actually quitting forever) if that's all his existential crises are, just a couple of minutes of panic and then he's okay, then he's doing pretty good. My existential crises normally end with me just kind of ending up in another state. I'll leave the house around 8pm, call my family around midnight and it'll just be like, "Hey guys I'm in New Mexico right now." And they'll be like "wtf, you haven't even been gone that long," and I'll just be like "Yeah I'm not sure how it happened either, I was just thinking about my life and the next thing you know I had to abandon California." 
> 
> Actually that reminds me. Last chapter I mentioned our emergency Disney trip, that my family went on? My dad was teasing my mom about her getting scared on the Haunted Mansion. And my mom got all mock offended and said, "Nothing scares me, I raised you." Pointing at me. Sick burn, mom. Now I have to run away to Georgia and stalk Jeffrey Dean Morgan, but just remember, you did this. (PSA: I'm not actually stalking him, don't worry, I just say shit for the shock value sometimes, and sometimes I don't think people can tell the difference.)


	5. Savages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that I'm kind of going in and adding some warnings up there, as I add onto this story. So far, it's all just stuff that I don't feel is too spoilery. Although I do think that if the hinting I did in the last chapter gave away the plot, then this chapter is more like being bludgeoned to death with it. Like I said before, I am not sneaky, I am bad with secrets, I cannot keep my mouth shut about anything... I feel like it's just so obvious now, and if you don't get what's happening here I just, I don't know. Even still, the big reveal is one, maybe two chapters away, so I'm going to continue to hold my cards close to my chest until then. (I'm sorryyyyy D: ) Although if you'd like, I do have a very special note in the end notes for this chapter for a very special someone. You can read that first if you're worried.

Mark tried to reach the girl, kicking aside various rocks, clawing at the dirt with his bare hands, but there was nothing. No sign of her. The dirt was so compact, like it had never even been shifted aside for the two bodies sinking rapidly into it. Mark knew even if he spent hours digging at it, there was no way he could reach her before she suffocated. He kept trying to call to her, get her to respond to him, just so he knew this wasn’t in vain, but he got nothing in reply. 

 

Had he just met this girl, only to watch her die within a few hours?

 

Was she even down there anymore, or had the creature taken her somewhere else? He knew some of these supernatural entities had space-bending powers. Something like teleportation, but Milo had given him a weird look when he suggested it. Milo could do it while he was travelling in the ocean, but it didn’t seem like that power extended to when he was on land. In fact, a lot of the freaky shit he pulled seemed to be restricted to him needing a water source nearby. Babd had done it when she pulled him out into the desert with her, and she was powerful, but apparently not so powerful that two guys with only a couple knives and a wolf familiar couldn’t take her down.. 

 

Mark heard a giggle behind him and he turned around sharply, pulling his knife out and swinging it open with his learned flourish. Behind him stood two women. One of them was dressed in what looked like the tattered remains of a bridal gown, with her blonde hair hanging down in disorganized strands from what once was a neatly kept bun. Beside her was a woman carrying her own head, with dark voluminous hair, which she kept long and in layered waves. Her clothes were similarly tattered, with a heavy tan plaid shawl draped over her shoulders, covering the wound where her head had been struck clean from them. If Mark had his guess, he supposed that it was the bride that did that to her. Not that there appeared to be any lingering bitterness between them, as buddy-buddy as they were now. Death truly was the great equalizer, he was beginning to learn. Grudges seemed pointless when you were both dead and in hell, already. As the bride observed him, he watched as the bouquet in her hands shifted, from dark, long dead roses to a large axe.

 

“Is it just my imagination…” The bride asked her companion. “Or are the men coming to us younger?” 

 

“Not more so than usual.” Her companion replied, appearing a bit more nonchalant than her companion. Cooler, uncaring. Mark really had to wonder how she managed to make any kind of noise without such things as a voice box, or lungs. 

 

“Let me guess…” Mark drawled a little.  “You two are the demons I was warned about?” He asked. 

 

“Handsomer.” The bride replied, still talking about Mark like he couldn’t hear them. 

 

“Depends, I suppose.” The headless girl replied. “If small is your type.”

 

“Ouch. Uncalled for.” Mark grimaced a little. He felt like he was more of an object to these women. A toy for them to play with. That of late was a feeling he got a lot more often than he used to, and one that he didn’t especially appreciate.

 

“Think he’s looking for a wife?” The bride asked as she continued to examine him, tapping the blade part of the axe against her knee, leaving a patch of blood against satin fabric. Mark made a sound of disgust as the sight turned his stomach.

 

“‘He’ is taken.” Mark felt the need to put in, fanning the knife in his hand for a moment before finishing it off in a wrist pass while he waited for them to finish the creepy ‘Shining twins’ schtick they had going on. (Honestly, the showing off was meant to make him look braver than he actually felt right about then.) “And if you’re thinking you’re going to use that axe on me, you should know that my boyfriend would be really, really angry with you guys. He’s not the type you want to piss off, believe me.” he continued. Yeah, others may have frowned at his methods, but he believed there was no shame in hiding behind the anger of his super-powerful boyfriend, especially when dealing with creepy demon ladies.

 

“Pity.” The bride replied, humming softly. She hefted up the axe blade, slinging it into the perfect position to chop his head clean off. “Looks like we’ll have to find some other use for you.” 

 

~~

 

The girl was huddled in the corner of what looked like a dark cave, staring up at the eight foot tall flaming demon staring back down at her. She was cold, and absolutely covered in dust. When he dragged her into that hole she felt the earth closing in around her, felt the immense pressure of it squeezing her. She felt her nose and mouth filled with dust, and she was sure she was going to meet her end, but then everything shifted and suddenly she was here, alone, with the demon who’d been chasing her all this time. He wasn’t saying anything, just…. Staring. It made her uncomfortable, nervous.  “What do you want from me?” She asked him, her voice trembling as much as she was just in pure fright. 

 

The demon tipped it’s head to the side, as if it was trying to understand her. Maybe it didn’t speak english. But then, what language could it understand? She doubted it knew sign language, and she hadn’t yet reached an age where a language study was required of her. Then, the demon moved forward, drawing a noise of fright from the little girl. She curled up further and let out a little cry as he closed in, expecting him to finally kill her.

 

But he didn’t hurt her. He simply squatted down in front of her, one fist outstretched, something clutched in the palm of his hand. Waiting, she realized, to drop whatever it was, into her palm. She kept both hands close to her chest, untrusting. What if it was something gross, like a venomous spider to bite and kill her?

 

“I require a favor from you.” She heard the demon tell her. She was shaking her head before he’d even finished the sentence, trying to push herself away from the demon and his hand, trying to reject him and whatever it was he wanted from her. 

 

“No. Do it yourself. I just want to help my dad.” She told him firmly. 

 

“There is only one option for you now.” He said to her. She looked up to the demon, staring into the empty sockets it had for eyes. “The only thing can help your father. Only if you listen to me.”    
  
“How?” She asked him, her voice low. Even though the girl knew better, she was absolutely desperate to save her father. She didn’t even think about how that might have made her easier to manipulate...

 

The demon shook his hand, and reluctantly she held out her own hand. The demon surprised her by suddenly grabbing her hand, and she whined, as a surge of power moved through her. It pricked at her skin, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand upright. 

 

“You take these back to Mark, and make sure he ingests them.” 

 

The girl gave him a look, and the creature quickly amended himself so that she could understand what he was saying. “Eats them.” he said. 

 

“Eats them?” She whispered, as she pulled her hand back, whatever it was he placed there, safely clutched within her palm. She couldn't tell right off what it was, but they felt like tiny, spongy little balls. “What is it?” She asked. “You’re not… You’re not asking me to poison him, right?” She asked him. Even if it was to help her father, she didn’t think she could do that to someone. Least of all, Mark. Though she still had her doubts about him, she could tell that he was at least trying to be good, and he’d gone out of his way to help her on her journey, so far.

 

“It’s not poison.” The demon assured her. “But this will help your father. You have my word on that.” The demon lingered a bit longer, seeming to be studying her uncomfortably. “Will you do this?” He asked her.

 

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, before choosing to just ask. “What is your name?” She asked. 

 

“Are you that unsure of me? So much so that you’re going to require that power of me.” The demon asked her, clearly amused, and she nodded. 

 

“I’m not stupid. Give me your name, and I’ll make sure Mark eats this.” She promised him.

 

“Temeluchus.” He answered. It wasn’t a name that she recognized by any means, but she felt better for having it. Her dad had always said there was power in having an entity’s name. So she gave her own out rarely, and though it was difficult sometimes, she tried to keep track of the ones she'd received. It wasn’t something she’d figured out how to use yet, but he could have been saving that for a different lesson down the road.

 

She nodded softly. “Okay.”

 

The demon watched her for a moment. “Are you going to take my name, and not offer your own?” He asked, and she shook her head.

 

“I don’t give mine out.” She said simply. “Just to friends.

 

“Ah, that's bad form, princess.” The demon gave her a long, sharp grin. “It’s fine. We all know it anyways.”    
  


The girl’s face fell. “What?”

 

“This isn’t the first trip you’ve ever made to the Underworld. We are all aware of you.” he told her with a laugh. “We know who you are. Our reacquaintance with you has always been inevitable.” 

 

“Stop.” She requested softly. She didn't want to know how or why he claimed to know these things. She didn't even want to test to see if he was lying. The claims that he was making were frightening enough to her. This wasn't her first visit to this awful place? Was that true, or another lie? Had her parents not been forthcoming with her about her past? She thought her dad was overprotective, but he did spend a lot of time teaching her things that a lot of the kids in her class didn't. Like how to use a balisong knife.

 

Did he know she was going to be making the trip down here? Did he know why?

 

“Back on topic.” She decided. She had something she wanted to make clear to the demon. “This had better not hurt Mark in any kind of way.” She didn’t know what she would do if it did hurt Mark. It wasn’t like she had any kind of power to make the demon behave or anything like that, but making the threat made her feel a little more confident. 

 

The demon disappeared with a laugh, a wisp of sulphuric smoke lingering in the air where he stood before. The girl searched the small space frantically, before hearing his voice again in her ears. “Mark is safe.” He assured her. “You have my word.”   
  
The girl listened for anything further. When nothing else came to her, she finally opened her hand to view what the things actually were that the demon had given her. 

 

In the palm of her hand, she found six tiny, red pomegranate seeds.

 

~~

 

Of all things Mark expected to see in Hell, a field of densely cropped together trees wasn’t one of them. He didn’t think anything could grow in this rocky terrain, but well, consider himself disabused of that notion. Without easy access to light or water, he figured, okay, maybe this forest was something unnatural, then. Most likely crawling with entities that wanted to eat him. 

 

And yes, he did run from the bride and her crabby headless sister. She had an axe and he had a dinky little knife(no jokes please), that was hardly fair. (And he was all about fairness, these days.) That lady had incredible stamina too. Mark felt like he’d been running for hours, though it had probably only been a couple of minutes and still there she was, keeping perfect pace with him.  He was beginning to wish he ran more frequently, he used to do it all the time, too. 

 

The dark forest with the one billion creepy creatures hiding inside of it had never looked so nice, when he realized that that was probably getting to be his only option, because the bride, that woman, she just didn’t quit, or really, even get winded. If he could just find a place to wait her out that wouldn’t get him killed by anything else, that was aces in his book.

 

He ducked into the forest and pushed hard into it. Jumping over tremendous root systems, diving under low hanging branches. The whole time he could fucking hear the woman following him. She seemed to be having no trouble keeping up with his pace, and Mark was getting frustrated. “Do you ever give up??” He shouted, and immediately wished he hadn’t wasted the breath in doing that. His lungs were already beginning to hurt. He heard the bride laugh behind him, and Mark realized further that, oh yeah, she likely didn’t need to breathe at all like he did. He shouted at her in an angry panic and only did himself more harm, how typical. 

 

He had to do something. He had to reach deep within the last stores of his energy and really push himself. He finally managed to eek out a lead on her, and quickly found an outcropping to hide in. It wasn’t much more than a couple of overgrown trees, melded together with a group of bushes, but he hoped it would do. He couldn’t see her behind him anymore, so he took the chance and ducked into them. He pulled the knife back out just in case, but he didn’t think it would do him much good, not against a supernatural entity with an axe. 

 

He held his breath for a while, listening to the crunch of leaves and gravel behind him. The bride seemed to be looking for him, seeming to realize like he did that he couldn’t have kept running. That meant he had to hide, and she rightly figured that he had to have hidden nearby. 

 

Meaning that Mark couldn’t stay hidden in this same place. 

 

Waiting for an opportunity, Mark heard the bride’s footsteps begin to head in the opposite direction. As quietly as he could, Mark pushed himself up from his tiny hovel, and, while crouched low, began to sneak off in the opposite direction. Now this really was beginning to feel like every other horror game he’d ever played, crouched down low, trying not to attract the attention of the psychopathic killer. The further he got, the harder it got to hear what the bride was doing, so he figured his strategy of escaping the threat was working. Then he heard her scream in frustration, slamming her axe against a tree, Mark figured he was good, at least for now. 

 

He kept going, sneaking quietly through the woods. After that run though he didn’t feel all that great. This sickness, whatever it was was so strange to him. He was eating so little, and he had to be throwing up more than he was taking in. Normally, with the stomach flu, after he’d thrown up once and rested it out, it was done by the end of the day. Well, since this started he’d thrown up every day, and even then, it hadn’t seemed to run its course. The symptoms would still just come and go. He felt alright sometimes, but it never lasted for long. 

 

Mark knew he couldn’t keep up this pace. Not even just this, this running through Hell bullshit. It was the daily episodes of violent sickness, the fact that he couldn’t keep anything down. It would have been bad enough without the road trips, the stress, the endless physical activity. Then Milo had to disappear and he, like an idiot, had to come after him. It was just one fucking thing after another and he was tired. Emotionally. Physically. He couldn’t speak for spiritually, but supposedly that was being kept safe back home. 

 

Feeling like he’d hit the wall, Mark found a spot in front of an old, black tree and just sank down. Not really knowing what to do with himself now, he tugged his phone at of his pocket and checked it. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it obviously wasn’t working. He guessed there wasn’t a lot of need for service down in heck. Out of frustration he ended up tossing the useless thing. It was almost kind of satisfying to hear it thunk against the tree sitting across from him. 

 

“No signal?” 

 

“Kid.” Mark replied, relieved to hear the girl’s soft voice. He glanced over just in time to see her rush up to him. She slammed her tiny body against his, sliding her arms around his neck in a tight hug, and drawing a laugh out of him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He whispered, moving to hug her in return. Fuck, he’d only known her for a couple of hours and he didn’t even know her name but he was already pretty fond of her. “How’d you get away?” 

 

“He just let me go.” She answered.

 

When she pulled back a little he was able to get a better idea of her state. She was covered in dirt. It made her brown hair look ashen and gray. There was soot on her face, and a few scratches here and there, but overall, she looked fine. He was so happy that he hadn’t seen that demon kill her after all, because if he had run from that and she was still fucking down there, he never would have been able to forgive himself, for not at least trying to get to her. Despite the shit that he’d had going on at the time.

 

“Weird.” he replied. He felt bad for not being more lively right then, but he really didn’t feel like he had the energy. “No indication at all what that was all about.

 

She shook her head softly, but the frown on her face indicated that she had noticed the change in him immediately, and he could tell she was concerned. She carefully pressed a dusty hand to his cheek. “What’s wrong?” She asked him. 

 

Mark sighed a little. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He insisted. “Just been a little sick. I mean, I know that sounds stupid, and probably pales in comparison to all of…” he swept his arm over the place. “This… nightmare. But it’s been going on for a while and I think it’s just catching up with me.” he said. 

 

“I don’t think it sounds stupid.” She told him. “How are you sick? What’s happening?”

 

Mark shrugged. He didn’t really want to cop to all of his various symptoms because he felt like he’d sound like such a bitch. Like honestly, he’s stuck in hell but he’s going to complain about his stomach flu? In front of a kid, too, who’d had it infinitely worse than he’d had it recently. Still, it didn’t make much sense for him to avoid what was happening with him either. He should be honest about it, right? Because if he’s dragging he’s only going to hold her back too, and he really didn’t want to do that to her. 

 

“Past couple of days I’ve been like, throwing up hard, like everything.” he sighed. “I just feel really faint, I’ve had vertigo, and, mostly just been tired.” he said to her. “Maybe like the flu. I’m not sure.” 

 

“And you came down here anyways?” the girl asked, looking almost stunned, and Mark chuckled a little. 

 

“Yeah.” he said, looking to her. “Dumb, right? But I just had to find him.” He said to her. “It’s what you do for people you love, right?” he asked her, and her face fell a little. 

 

“Yeah.” She agreed. “That is what you do.” 

 

He smiled a little. “Yeah.” He agreed softly. He felt kind of weirdly proud of her in that moment, but it wasn’t like he had anything to do with how she turned out. Whoever had raised her had done a great job with her, and he hoped he could say that to them, at some point. “But… don’t worry about me, you’ve got your own problems.” He began to tell her, and she shook her head. 

 

“No, I…” She paused, reaching for her backpack. “My dad always packs me something before I go to school. I might have something for you.” 

 

“Oh, no, come on, I’m fine.” Mark tried to insist to her. “I’m not gonna take your dad’s snacks, that’s for you, my problems are just… they’re my problems, I was complaining, I don’t want you worrying about me.” Mark protested.

 

She gave him a little look at that. “You have to eat something.” She told him. “I always do, right before softball practice. You don’t even have the energy to move or anything right now.” She pointed out to him and yeah, she had him there. 

 

She tugged out a small ziploc bag, presenting it to him. There were just a few grapes in it, a few slices of apple, and some pomegranate seeds. Stuff that was typically available year-round, at least in California. 

 

“I ate some of it earlier, sorry.” She whispered, shoving the bag in his hands.

 

Mark was actually kind of touched that this poor kid was so worried about him. “Come on, kid, I don’t want to take your after-school snacks, your dad wanted that for you.” He said, and tried to offer it back, but she shook her head, refusing to take it. 

 

“Just eat something, you’ll probably feel better after.” The girl continued to insist. “I’m not going anywhere until you do.” She firmly insisted. “At least eat the little pomegranate pieces… they’re tiny.” She continued to implore him. “You can at least do that.”

 

After all that gentle concern, he finally decided he had to accept her sweet gift. “Okay, alright.” he agreed. She actually really did have a point. He had been running on a deficit of calories the past couple of days, and right in that moment his stomach seemed alright, like maybe he could hold something down. He was just exhausted. Weak. Maybe he needed the sugar? “After this we’ll get going again.” he promised her. “I won’t hold you up anymore.” 

 

“You’re not holding me up.” she told him softly. 

 

As Mark began to eat the various pieces of fruit, the girl sank down into the dirt beside him, curling up into his side. He didn’t really question the newfound affection. She’d clearly been through a lot, and maybe she needed the reassurance as much as he did. She was still a kid, too, and if he was finding all of this difficult to handle, he could only imagine what it’s been like for her. He offered her the little bag. “Maybe we can share.” he offered, and after a moment, she reached a tiny hand and snatched a piece of apple. 

 

“Only cause I feel like you’d get feel all stupidly guilty if I don’t.” she said. 

 

Mark nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” he said. Despite the fact that the fruit had been in her bag for a while, and it was a little gross, the way fruit tends to get damp when its been sitting for too long in a piece of plastic, it did kind of help to tide Mark over a little. 

 

After they’d finished everything off, they both just kind of sat there. The girl was keeping an eye on the area, which he appreciated because he knew that bride and her sister were out there somewhere, still. Having an extra set of eyes could only be a good thing. Not that it would have mattered if they were around, since he was still pretty tired from everything. He didn’t expect half a snack size bag of fruit to help him regain his energy all that quickly. At the very least he could manage a distraction while the girl got the hell out.

 

But Mark was beginning to feel a little odd, and it became pretty quickly apparent that the girl had noticed how he was doing too. She gave him a worried look, a hand reaching out to gently grasp his arm. “Mark?” She asked, shaking him a little. 

 

Her skinny arms wrapped around his chest when he abruptly pitched to the side, in probably the worst case of vertigo he’d ever experienced. “Shit…” He whispered, pressing his hands to the dirt as she helped to set him down on his side without him hurting himself. 

 

“What’s going on?” She asked, her tone clearly projecting worry and fear. “What’s happening with you?” She asked. 

 

“I’m fine!” Mark tried to assure her. He didn’t know where this was coming from. His world was spinning so fast he almost felt like he was floating. “Everything’s fine.” He insisted, even as he was reeling. 

 

“You’re not fine.” he heard the little girl hiss, and he felt her fingers against his cheek once more. Her small hand pushed his bangs from his eyes, tucking the loose strands back along the top of his head, as he struggled to regain control of himself. Her voice sounded a little more distant as she talked to him. “I have to find the demon.” She told him then. “Just stay here and be safe.” she ordered him.

 

He had no idea what she was talking about, and as he slipped into unconsciousness, he wanted to point out that he had no real choice but to obey her. He never had the chance to. He closed his eyes and slipped into darkness.

 

~~

 

When Mark woke up again he was sitting upright on an old-fashioned, velvet, red tufted couch, his body slumped backwards so that his head was almost hanging off of the back of it. He could feel the buttons, uncomfortably hard against his back. Every part of his body hurt, honesty, especially as he tried to pick up his head. His neck ached, and he felt his body spasm wretchedly. He let out a whine as he tried to sink back down without completely sliding off of the thing.

 

“Awake, darling?” 

 

Though it hurt, Mark forced himself to look up. 

 

Sitting across from him, face veiled in darkness, but sitting on a similar looking red couch was another man. He didn’t appear to be suffering the same way that Mark was. In fact he looked downright relaxed, legs crossed, hands gripping the arms of the ancient piece. 

 

Mark wished he could see his face. 

 

“What’s going on?” Mark asked drowsily. Mark was desperately trying to stay up, stay awake, but his body spasmed, hard. His eyes rolled up briefly, his head dipping backwards, and he slumped hard to the side. He caught himself, pulling himself back up into a sitting position. He felt like he had a terribly high fever, or maybe he’d just been drugged, just from how out of control he was of his own body. There was something crawling under his skin, he didn’t think he was imagining it. 

 

“How are you feeling, Mark?” The person sitting across from him asked. The way he said it, it came off more as an impersonal inquiry, like he was conducting business, rather than actually caring about the answer Mark gave.

 

“Fuck.” Mark whispered, trying to raise a hand to his forehead, but he struggled just doing that. His arms were shaking so bad. His fingers were cramping so hard they were locked up, he almost couldn’t move them. “What’s happening to me?” He demanded. 

 

Mark couldn’t see anything of the other man, nothing but the sharp grin that crossed his face. “Someone did you a disservice. I don’t think you adequately understood the danger you’d be in, coming here, my darling.” Suddenly the man was sitting beside him and Mark jerked hard to the side, but there was really nowhere for him to go. The man’s hand was gripping his neck, long fingernails digging painfully into the skin. He expected the man to strangle him. Instead, one of those sharp nails pricked the skin, and Mark hissed, feeling a small droplet of blood form on his skin. 

 

Mark whined, teeth bared as he continued to shiver, his body still spasming out of his control. He watched the other man closely, his face still somehow hidden from him, everything except for that creepy smile. As the man pulled his hand from his neck he could see that caught droplet of his blood, cradled perfectly in the curve of the man’s long fingernail. He stuck that finger in his mouth, tasting Mark’s blood like he was trying a fine wine. 

 

“Sweet.” The man complimented.

 

“Creepy.” Mark returned, even though his lungs protested to say it. 

 

The other man chuckled, and Mark felt more than saw the other man’s arm cross behind his back. He grasped the hair just above his neck and tugging it hard, forcing his head to tip upwards. “You’re quite the talker, aren’t you, darling?” He asked. 

 

“Only when I’m nervous.” Mark replied, and he felt like he was flailing ineffectually. He grabbed onto the couch, onto the man’s shirt, like he was trying to push him away, but his body just wasn’t responding the way he needed it to. He’d never felt so weak before, the only time he’d ever come close to feeling this was with Bael.

 

He gasped softly and quickly banished the memory. He just couldn’t deal with it, not right now.

 

“Well, soon you won’t have to be.” The man told him. “You’ll never have anything to fear ever again.”

 

“That seems like a lie!-”  

 

Mark was shivering so fucking hard he could hardly believe the man could zero in on him so quickly. The man drew him into a biting kiss. Mark squirmed, hard, but the other man kept him close, grabbing onto one of Mark’s arms to keep him from fighting.

 

...something changed.

 

Mark tore himself away when the man finally allowed it, collapsing against the floor with a terrified shout. In that brief moment he saw the man’s face and…

 

It was his own. 

 

Mark blacked out, or he thought he did. He still had flashes of memories. He thought that he was left lying on that floor for a long time. Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes there were people hovering over him. He could feel himself still twitching uncontrollably, violently, screaming his throat raw, his body wracked with pain. He could have been there for hours. Days. 

 

When he finally he opened his eyes, the creature wearing wearing his face was hovering over him. Hands on his face, tipping it this way and that. Pressing both thumbs against his eyelids so that he couldn’t close them. 

 

“You’re stronger than I gave you credit.” Mark thought he heard the man whisper. “I nearly killed you, last night.” He said way too casually, sounding impressed. Mark tried to reply, tried to make a sound, but it came out strangled. He realized half a second later that the man literally was hovering over him. No part of him was touching the ground, and that was an odd thing to wake up to.

 

Did that mean he was dreaming? Or was the man playing a creepy trick on him? Either way, he didn’t get very long to ponder it. 

 

“Back to the aether with you.” The man whispered.

 

And everything went dark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's kind of funny? I'm actually a pretty visual person when it comes to my characters. I like to know what they look like. I keep my descriptions short because I feel like, it's kind of a modern trend to do throw out a few details and let the reader fill in how they want this character to look. But I do like to have my visuals, at least for myself, because it helps me to see in my mind how they walk, how they talk, their mannerisms, etc. Damien's face character is Alice Cooper, Virgil's is Tom Hiddleston, they've been established for years. 
> 
> But I never actually mentioned who I was using as face characters for Milo and Cersa, and they're pretty important characters in this whole thing. (Well, they're sort of incapacitated at the moment, but they're coming back.) So I decided I'm going to finally show you guys the face characters for the siblings. 
> 
> Anyone... follow popular cosplay accounts on their instagram feeds? Or am I the only one? 
> 
> Anyways, Milo's face character is Leo Camacho and Cersa's is Jessica Nigri, both on instagram, both amazing cosplayers. (And look, they took a [selfie](https://www.instagram.com/p/BINncHNjctt/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) together that looks pretty much exactly what I picture a selfie with them would look like. With Cersa all bright and happy and Milo having no idea what they're posing for.) Also I'm just gonna casually link to this [video](https://www.instagram.com/p/BvnAbHTjObp/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) because that line at the end, that _I don't like that she's prettier than me_ , that's very Milo to me.
> 
> Oh, also, that last part in this chapter. Is that something I need to address? Maybe. That is **NOT** Darkiplier. Also it is. But it's not. I'll probably have Mark tackle that explanation at some point in this fic. I've just always really like the idea of people being haunted by their warped mirror images. In high school I had a friend who was terrified of mirrors, and she didn't like being around them, and would actually go out of her way to cover them up with blankets or whatever. Since knowing her, it's an idea I've found fascinating. 
> 
> So that's all I have to discuss for this chapter, see you guys very soon. (This has all been very plotty and heavy. I know how to break this up. I'm gonna put in a sex scene. Fuck yeah.)


	6. Raising Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a lot of exposition, and I'm sorry, but it had to be done. Next chapter we start getting some answers for this shit, that'll be fun, hopefully.

Mark woke up, still laying in the dirt, his head resting a bit uncomfortably against a large root from the tree. The rest of him was kind of embarrassingly curled into the fetal position. He wanted to move but fuck, everything hurt. It even hurt to breathe. He definitely wasn’t in the same place with the red couches. Was he back in the forest?

 

“What was that??” Mark heard a voice nearby. He thought it sounded like the little girl he’d befriended before, but she sounded worried, maybe even scared. Mark pressed shaking hands into the dirt beneath him, trying to force himself upright. He could feel lines left behind in his cheek, where the bark had traced its pattern into his skin. “He just fell over. He stopped breathing.” She said. “I’ve only ever seen CPR happen in movies. Nothing I did worked; he could have died. You said, you  _ promised _ it wouldn’t hurt him!”

 

Mark placed a trembling hand on his chest. He stopped breathing? Is that why his chest felt like someone had been pounding on it? The girl, maybe? He didn’t think kids as young as her actually could do CPR. It required a lot of strength they won’t have developed yet; at least he thought he remembered learning that somewhere. He really didn’t like the implications of that, of the thought that he almost lost his life, and more than that, what he’d left behind in Damien’s care, what wouldn’t be returned to him if he had died. As he pulled his hand back he saw something wrapped around his index finger. It looked like a little pink string, but upon further examination it looked like a piece of someone’s hair. He gently brushed it with the pinky finger of his other hand, but as soon as he did it fell to dust, as if it had been very fragile, and couldn’t withstand even that gentle touch. 

 

That was weird, but maybe not as weird as that dream he’d had. It was a dream, right? It didn’t seem like he’d been taken anywhere. It had felt pretty real, though, and when he pressed a hand to his neck, there was a scab there. A trace of something left behind. But he’d hurt himself in his dreams before, and sometimes he’d woken up with little bumps and bruises. That happened all the time, not just to him. He didn’t suppose it could have been his evil mirror image. That guy was a  _ character _ . He wasn’t  _ real. _

 

Pushing the dream from the forefront of his mind, he finally glanced over to where he heard the girl’s voice. He found her pretty quickly, staring down the goat demon that had chased them through the fields, at that moment, fully engulfed in flame. The demon wasn’t moving it’s mouth, but somehow, Mark was able to make out what it was saying to her anyways.

 

“It always amuses me when people are surprised that a demon didn’t keep its promise.” It said, mocking her. “It’s like you humans always forget what it is we do. Were you expecting accountability in Hell?” 

 

“I… “ Mark watched as the girl shook her head, as her whole body suddenly slumped. “I just want to find my dad. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be trapped here.” She huffed a little. “But that doesn’t mean I want to drag anyone else down with me. I… I get that I might not be able to leave, now, but…” 

 

“What if I told you this.” The demon interrupted. “Your father being trapped here has nothing to do with you, whatsoever.” 

 

The girl snapped her head back up, her face twisting up in confusion. “What?” She demanded. 

 

“He’s here because of the choices he made. Same as you.” The demon continued to tell her. “Even if you reached him now, if you even could, you wouldn’t be able to take him from this place. As for you? Well, you spurned your ride.” The demon reminded. “You’re both stuck here.” 

 

The girl stared up at the demon, shocked, and despite what Mark figured must have happened, (yeah, maybe he should have been a little bit more suspicious about that fruit offering. He had literally forgotten about not taking food from strangers, he was totally willing to accept that  _ he _ was the idiot on that one.) He kind of felt bad for her, and for her father, honestly. He felt like he was watching the destruction of someone’s family. The end of their line, and that was tragic. The girl sunk down to her knees, staring up at the demon with a pained look on her face. 

 

“You’re lying.” She tried. “You’re lying. You lied to me earlier about not hurting Mark.” She pointed out to him. 

 

“Try me.” The demon replied. “Tell me I’m lying. This one you know the answer to.” 

 

The girl tightly shook her head. 

 

The demon did something then that Mark didn’t expect. He leaned in, and placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. She didn’t seem hurt by the flames, but, it did seem to help her. What an odd scene. “Don’t be sad.” he told her. “You can still help  _ him _ . You still have a chance to do good, even down here.” He said, and one flaming hand pointed in Mark’s direction. “Remember what I said?” He asked her, watching as the girl nodded.

 

Mark didn’t say anything. Nothing seemed appropriate to say.

 

A few seconds later, the demon disappeared, and the girl stood up. She straightened out her backpack a little, before turning on her heel, approaching where Mark was still sitting. 

 

“Hey.” She said softly, as she got closer.

 

“Hey.” Mark replied. He still felt trashed, but, he supposed it was better than being dead, and apparently, he had the girl to thank for that. But considering it was her who put him in that situation in the first place…

 

“I’m sorry.” She said after a moment. “He kind of… tricked me. Over what the fruit would do.” She said. “I never wanted to hurt you.” She said. 

 

“I didn’t think it was on purpose.” Mark shrugged. Part of him wanted to be agitated. But the rarely heard adult in him remembered that she was just a kid. A kid who was missing her dad. She was going through some shit too. “What happened while I was out?” He asked. 

 

“I don’t know. You were twitching a lot. Like one of those… what’s the word…” She frowned a little, pursing her lips. 

 

“Seizure?” Mark tried. The girl looked to him.

 

“Is that what that is?” She asked. She seemed to think it over, before she finally agreed. “It was like you were having a seizure.” She finally said. “And it went on for a really long time. At one point you stopped breathing and I just…” She sighed. “I watched how to do CPR before, on TV, but it wasn’t working.” She shook her head a little. “So I used one of my… and that seemed to work.” She finally shrugged. Mark tipped his head to the side, blinking in confusion. 

 

“You used a what?” He asked, and she shook her head. 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” She said, and he was a little surprised at how abruptly he was dismissed. “How are you feeling now?” She asked him. 

 

“Like I’m dying.” He said, honestly, and paused, just about having the weirdest sense of deja vu right when he said that. 

 

The girl frowned a little at that. “Seriously?” She asked him. 

 

“It’s fine, I’m just… complaining.” He said. He really did hurt, but he didn’t want to make the kid feel worse. It was hard sometimes to remember how he needed to monitor himself around kids. He’d slipped up in front of his brother’s kids so many times. 

 

“You need to be fine, because…” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “The demon told me a lot.” She said to him. 

 

“And you trust him this time?” Mark asked her curiously. 

 

“I mean… no, not entirely.” she said. “But it’s the best clue I can give you right now.” She told him. She leaned in conspiratorially, placing her small hands on one of his knees as she did so. “He said your boyfriend’s been looking for you. He knows you’re here.” She told him. “He told me he was looking for you in the wastes. The area covered in rocks between Asphodel and Tartarus.” She said. “So you’ve got a lot of walking to do. You have to get past Cerberus again, and I don’t have anything else to give you to distract it with…” She paused, shaking her head. “I…. I can’t go with you.” She said, after a moment. 

 

“Why not?” Mark asked her. It wasn’t like he was going to suggest that she needed to, when she was so obviously afraid of that thing, but leaving her on her own didn’t seem like the right thing to do either. 

 

“Because I don’t care what that demon says. That it’s useless or not. I have to get to my dad. I have to at least try to save him.” She said to him. “When the situation was reversed, he came to get me. He was trapped here because of me.” She said, tiny voice trembling, like she was trying to hold back tears. “And I can’t stop thinking about… about all the times I was sick and he stayed up with me. Or when he would put everything on hold to come to my softball games. When he would come spend the night next to me because the nightmares got so bad.” She whispered. “And now he’s in trouble and… what they’re doing to him right now… and even if it’s not my fault, I have to try and bring him home. Leaving him isn’t an option for me.” She said. “That’s why I can’t go with you. You have to pull through this on your own.” She told him firmly.

 

“I get it.” Mark assured her softly.  

 

The girl nodded, looking him over one last time. As she did, she reached for her ponytail, shifting it for a moment, while Mark watched her curiously. “Here.” She said, taking his hand and slipping something over his index finger once more. Curious, Mark watched, and he realized. She was wrapping another pink hair around his index finger. Which first off, he couldn’t even tell that she had dyed any of her hair pink. Was she hiding the pink hairs in her ponytail, covering it with her brown hair? He was  _ still _ exhausted from the amount of work he had to do to upkeep his own hair, during the period when he was dyeing it. Why go through all that trouble and then hide it under your normal, virgin hair? 

 

After she tied it off, she looked to him. “There.” She said. “That’ll work.” She said. 

 

“I feel like I’m missing something here.” Mark said, as he examined the hair now wrapped around his finger. 

 

“You’ll figure it out.” She told him simply, placing her hands on her waist. Like she was daring him to question her further. He kind of shrugged a little though. He’d had his ass handed to him trusting her before, but he supposed he could give this one more shot. 

 

“Okay. Fine. I guess I’ll trust you here.” He said, dropping his hand back into his lap. He was exhausted, and really didn’t feel like arguing with her.

 

“Good.” She said. She fell quiet for a long moment, just kind of looking him over. If anything she just looked… kind of sad. Mark raised an eyebrow at her. 

 

“You okay, kid?” He asked her.

 

“Yeah.” She said after a moment. She leaned in again, kneeling in front of him, before shifting in and gently sliding her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Just thinking about how I’m gonna miss you.” She said softly. “I’m really…. I’m sorry about poisoning you.” She said. 

 

“Yeah, well. I pulled through.” He said, kind of examining the pink hair over her shoulder, the one wrapped around his finger. 

 

“I was dumb.” The girl whispered against his shoulder, and Mark sighed, finally putting an arm around her in return.. 

 

“You’re not dumb.” he told her. “You just want to find your dad. That goat dude was being an ass, he took advantage of it.” He said. “Don’t be upset, I don’t blame you.” 

 

“I could have gotten you killed though.” She said. “And I didn’t… I would never want that.” She assured him. “Mark… I feel like I have to tell you. I was really unsure of you. For a really long time.” She said. “I mean. I always heard how this place was filled with illusion. Stuff meant to mislead you.” She said. “Because it’s meant to keep us trapped here. Once you die, and your soul is judged, you’re not supposed to be able to leave this plane. So I thought for sure you were a trick. Like you were trying to trap me.” 

 

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Mark told her, and she nodded. 

 

“Yeah. I get that now.” She said to him. “It was just weird. Running into you like I did. And you just seemed so clueless about stuff. Things you should have known that you didn’t.” She frowned a little. 

 

“What?” Mark asked her, raising his head up a little. That caught his attention for sure. What was she talking about? This conversation was getting weird, and that was saying something, considering the number of odd conversations he’d already had with this kid. 

 

“Sorry, I’ve… I’ve got to go.” She said, moving to grab her back pack and pull it on again. “Be careful, okay?” She said, and he nodded.

 

“When you find him, take care of your dad.” he said. “And tell him he’s raised a very capable kid.” he added. 

 

She gave him a little smile. “Yeah, and you take care of your boyfriend.” She returned. “I feel like I need to say something more profound than just see ya.” She replied, making a face as she seemed to really think it over. “May the Force be with You?” She tried. 

 

Mark blinked. “A-what?” he asked. 

 

“I don’t know. I just watched those movies the other day.” She said.  

 

“Oh.” Mark replied, laughing a little. “They’re great, huh?” He asked her, and she grinned a little. 

 

“Yeah, Luke Skywalker is pretty hot. Was pretty hot.” She paused, thinking it over. “No, he’s probably still pretty hot. You can age and still be hot.” She said, and Mark stammered for a moment. 

 

“Wait a minute. You’re like… No...” He shook his head. “That raised my heckles in a way that I did not expect.” He admitted after a moment. 

 

“That’s odd, I wonder why.” She grinned at him a little, before offering him a salute. “See ya.” 

 

~~

 

Mark didn’t wait around for very much longer. As soon as he felt semi-decent again he got up, wincing at how his muscles complained to be moved before they were ready, and began to carefully make his way back. He didn’t take the exact same path, in fear that the two female demons from before were still looking for him. He tried to stay close to it though, so that he wouldn’t get too turned around. 

 

It would have been easy to get lost in a hell forest he assumed. 

 

Eventually he made it out of there, and even managed to find his own way back to the gates. Cerberus was still patrolling the area, and as Mark wondered what he was going to do about that, he felt the tiny hair wrapped around his finger tighten briefly. In the distance, he saw a bright pink flash. As he watched, Cerberus growled, turning from the direction he wanted to head down to go and investigate it. Seeing his opportunity, Mark made his way out to the wastes. He felt another gentle tug from the hair, and when he glanced down he saw it falling to ash, just like the other hair had earlier. The girl had been right about one thing; he was pretty sure he knew the purpose behind them now. 

 

It was kind of a relief to he moved on, past the beast and the rocky area, seeing the water return from that blood red color back to being crystal clear. As he continued to move on, relatively unaccosted, he failed to notice something follow him out of the gates of Tartarus. 

 

Mark approached the river once again when he heard something behind him. He quickly turned to face it, and it was a good thing that his reflexes were still pretty good. He had just enough time to duck out of the path of the bride’s oncoming axe, dodging a spray of pebbles as it landed in the bank beside him.

 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Mark hissed at her. “Do you ever give up??”

 

The woman grinned at him, tugging her axe up out of the ground. “I’ve always been a persistent woman.” She informed him. “You could ask any of my five husbands. Well, before they met their untimely and unfortunate ends.” She grinned, looking very pleased with herself. 

 

“Black widow bride.” Mark realized her story. “You deserve your place in Hell.”    
  


“I gave those older men what they wanted. A fair, fresh-faced bride, to parade in front of their friends. And when I grew tired of them, I moved on.” She told him. “I hardly see what’s wrong with that. Especially when they would have died anyways.” She said. “I just gave them a gentle push.” 

 

“Yeah I can see that you psychotic-”    
  


Mark was interrupted when he felt a hand grab his wrist. In a moment of panic, Mark ripped out his knife, swinging it open and turning to stab whatever the fuck had touched him and…

 

Milo grabbed the hand holding the knife with hardly any effort expended, quickly forcing Mark’s wrist out to the side and effectively disarming him. The knife spun open and landed on the ground harmlessly, a good few feet away.

 

“Mark.” He said, shaking him gently, like he was trying to get Mark to recognize him. 

 

Mark stared at him for a long moment, unspeaking, and Milo sighed. “Did you drink from the river?” The man demanded, but there was a trace of concern in his voice. “Mark, it’s me…”

 

Mark suddenly yanked his wrists out of the man’s hold, and without warning threw himself into Milo’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug. “Fuckyouyoufuckingassholefuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.” Mark said loudly, mumbling into the man’s neck as he held him. He accented each one of those ‘fucks’ by bringing his fist down onto the man’s opposite shoulder as hard as he could. He didn’t concern himself about whether or not it would hurt the other man. He was a god, he was pretty much made out of steel anyways. “You had me so fucking worried you bitch, I’ll fucking end you if you pull this shit on me again.”

 

It kind of seemed like he’d stunned Milo for a moment, but finally the man reacted. He slowly, carefully placed a hand at the small of Mark’s back, the other finding its place at the nape of his neck. Milo tugged him in tightly, holding him close, and Mark kind of felt like he was back where he belonged.

 

“I had  _ you _ worried?” Milo demanded. “ _ You _ had  _ me _ worried!” He gently pulled Mark back a little bit, looking him over. “What are you doing here?” He asked, placing a hand against Mark’s cheek. As Milo examined him, his fingers moved over the small scab on his neck. “What happened here?” he asked. 

 

Mark blanked out for a moment, and then he remembered. “Oh, this fucking…” He sighed. “I passed out, and fell, and when I woke up…” 

 

“You passed out?” Milo demanded. “Mark, what in the fuck...” Milo shook his head, grabbing his arms like he was going to shake him, but he kept his touch exceedingly gentle, as if he could sense the state Mark was still in. “Why in the fuck didn’t you stay where I left you?” 

 

“Wh- are you blaming me?  _ Really?? _ ” Mark demanded, as his voice gained a higher pitch without his noticing. “Listen here you fucking bitch, I was, _ I _ was kidnapped from where you fucking left me, your goddamn mother sold me out!”

 

Milo’s face dropped at that, looking startled at that information. “She did... What?” He asked, and his mood changed rapidly, voice taking on a low, and dangerous tone.

 

Before Mark could even answer, Milo took his arm, swinging him around until he was standing behind the other man. Mark’s head spun for a moment, but he realized what was happening pretty quickly, when the bride’s axe came very, very close to nearly hitting him in the shoulder. He gasped, stepping further back behind Milo, effectively using him as a shield. 

 

“This is all very sweet, but you boys are wasting my time now.” The bride put in, giving the both of them a creepy grin, as she brandished her weapon. 

 

Milo looked her over once. Then he glanced back to Mark. 

 

“Friend of yours?” He asked. 

 

Mark quickly shook his head. “Oh, god no.” He said. 

 

“Good.” 

 

As Mark watched, Milo outstretched a hand. All at once the bride began to spasm her entire body, moving in ways that looked like she was being yanked, back and forth, limbs flying in uncomfortable, opposite positions. It made Mark think of a marionette, with two children fighting over the strings. The look on her face went from confused, to terrified, as she realized what was happening. She abruptly bent over and began to throw up. Water splashed onto the ground, nearly brushing up against Milo’s shoes, but the man took a casual step back, pressing Mark back in step with him. 

 

The woman literally vomited all of the water inside of her body, fluid escaping from her eyes, her nose, coming from her ears. As she did he could see her cheeks sinking in, her muscle dehydrating, deflating, turning into something that reminded Mark of beef jerky. (Well great, now he was going to think about this everytime he tried to snap into a slim jim.) Mark grasped onto Milo’s clothes at his back, grasping them tightly in mild fear as he watched. The whole process seemed so terrible and painful. Finally she collapsed into the puddle at her feet, a pile of dried up flesh and bone.

 

“Holy shit.” Mark said, clutching tightly to Milo, even as the man turned, attempting to physically block him from looking over at the dismal remains. Mark couldn’t say that that he was at all fond of the woman, but that seemed like a terrible way to die. Honestly, he was a little freaked out that Milo could do that to someone, anyone. Between this and the blood spell, Milo was beginning to whip out magic that was a little bit freaky to him. “Got any other terrifying powers you want to cop to?” Mark asked, raising his face up to look at Milo. The man shrugged casually, like dehydrating a person to death was an everyday thing for him, and he gently took Mark by the arm and lead him away from the sight.

 

“I was disturbed by the brazenness she displayed by attacking you, right in front of me. It’s almost like she thought I wouldn’t brutally destroy her for trying to harm what’s  _ mine _ .” Milo said, sinking his teeth in a bit on that last word. “I’m sure she understands the gravity of her mistake now. I’m not against teaching someone a lesson where I find it warranted.” Milo replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Now. You want to tell me what happened with my mother?” He asked, as he carefully guided Mark from away from the very brutal murder. 

 

“Ah, hell yes I do.” Mark said, giving Milo a look. “But first of all, I want you to explain this whole fucking thing to me. Explain everything. What are you doing here? What was the deal with the triple goddess? Why is your mother a complete psychopath?” Mark began to list off. “I have a lot of questions about that last one in particular.” he said. 

 

“Oh. Right. I remember now that you missed out on all of that drama.” Milo realized. “Well. As it turns out, a little while before we had he who shall not be named stuffed into that box, he apparently stole something of great importance from the Morrigan’s husband.” He said. “Apparently that was our error, and something we should have thought of before we did away with him.” He added on sarcastically. “So she wanted him released to retrieve it for her. When I refused she made a very visceral threat against you.” He said. 

 

At this point in his journey, Milo found kind of a large boulder to shelter against, and he gently manuerved Mark to lean up against it. It wasn’t immediately obvious to him what Milo was doing, until the man began to run his hand over him and Mark realized. Milo was checking him for any other injuries, besides the scab on his throat. “Are you still sick?” Milo asked him, and Mark shrugged.

 

“A little, but it’s not like I’ve had the time to really recover, either. I’m trying to just ignore it, there’s nothing we can do about it down here” Mark replied. He had the feeling when all of this was over, he was probably overdue for a very, very long nap. Milo nodded his understanding.

 

“At any rate, I advised her of the complete illogic of attacking you when I can simply come down here and retrieve it for her. She was agreeable to those terms, and, I came down here.” Milo said. “Though if she came and  took you immediately, it becomes obvious that she had no intentions of upholding her end of the bargain.” 

 

“Obviously. Did you find what she was looking for?” Mark asked. 

 

Milo gave him a bit of a smirk. “And then some.” He said. Mark decided he didn’t want to know. “What about you? What happened with mother? How did you get here?” He asked. 

 

“Oh, hold on to your butt, because have I got a story for you. And before we go any further, let it be known that once again, I was right, and this is all your fault.” Mark sassed Milo. 

 

Milo just sighed, but Mark continued.

 

“First of all, your mother, the woman I was supposed to be safe around? She sold me entirely down the river. Now I don't know exactly what the conversation was, because I was doing my solid best to avoid her, but apparently she worked out some kind of… deal, I guess, with part of that triple goddess, Babd. She came out dressed like your mother. I mean, not dressed like her, she just looked exactly like her.” Mark tried to explain, and Milo nodded. 

 

“The Morrigan are shapeshifters.” Milo explained. “Continue.” 

 

“Oh, good, that’s comforting.” Mark eyed him a little. “How do I know that you’re really you and not one of them, then?” he asked. 

 

“Mark, remember when we fucked behind the second Hollywood ‘O’ and you twisted your ankle, and I ended up carrying you down the trail?” Milo asked, and Mark flushed a little. 

 

“Jumping that fence was still totally worth it. Yeah?” Mark ventured. 

 

“No one else was there.” Milo pointed out. “If I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t know about that.” 

 

“Okay. Valid. I guess.” Mark realized. “I… lost my train of thought a little bit there.” 

 

Milo placed a hand on his hip and gave him a little smirk. “You were at the shapeshifting part.” 

 

“...right.” Mark breathed out a little. For some reason, that memory, combined with the touch against his hip was a little distracting right about then. He didn’t particularly want to fuck in Hell, he really wasn’t up to anything, but damn, that would be an experience. A little more interesting to talk about around the coffee table than just your last vacation, wouldn’t it? Mark shook off the thought, and finally continued. “So, she tried to trick me into telling her about the box. But that’s when I figured she was full of it. Because I remember, I remember Cersa mentioned that she’d already talked to her mom about that ritual. And I refused to tell her anything. So she got mad, and she pulled me into another fucking desert, and you know how I feel about those.” he said. 

 

“I’m aware, yes.” Milo replied, motioning for Mark to continue. 

 

“Yeah, so anyways, I used my knife on her, the one that you gave me, and I just fucking ran.” Mark said, getting a little stressed out as he told the story. “But I ended up running into Damien…”    
  


“Damien?” Milo asked. The grip on his hip became a little tighter, a little more concerned, and a lot less sexy. “What was he doing there?” 

 

“I don’t know, they told me they were there hunting succubi.” Mark told him. 

 

“Who’s they?” Milo interrupted.

 

“Oh, Damien was with some guy named Virgil. Do you know him?” 

 

“Can’t say that I do.” Milo said with a grimace. “This story is getting complicated.” 

 

“Oh, it gets so much worse.” Mark insisted. “So Virgil ends up killing Babd.” 

  
Milo stared at him blank-faced. “He did…. What?” 

 

“He just fucking killed her.” Mark replied. “I mean I softened her up for him, but he went and fucking cut off her head.” 

 

“Fucking…” Milo sighed. “Why would he do that? Now they’re gonna be pissed…”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Damien said!” Mark replied. “And while I’m there with the two of them Damien tells me you’re down here, but he couldn’t tell me whether you were alive or dead.” Mark said. “And I couldn’t. I couldn’t just hang back and wait for you to come home. What if you never came home?” Mark asked, reaching out to gently grasp Milo’s jacket. “I couldn’t do it. So I asked him to send me down here, but he would only do it if I made a deal with him.” 

 

Milo’s head snapped to him. “Mark, you didn’t…” 

 

“No. I mean, not completely.” Mark said. “They said it was like a temporary lease. They’re holding onto it while I’m down here.” 

 

“Right, and if you had died down here, your soul would be theirs, right?” Milo demanded. “Mark that is the stupidest… most irresponsible…” 

 

“Don’t start, I don’t care.” Mark replied, tugging on Milo’s shirt and sticking a finger in his face. “Because I care about you. I care… fuck me, I fucking love you, you idiot.” Mark told him, deciding that it wasn’t hurt holding onto that feeling anymore. “And I couldn’t wait up there waiting for you to come back. Not when I didn’t know if you’d been hurt, or worse. I can’t. Don’t ever ask that of me, don’t do that to me, ever.” Mark begged him quietly.

 

Milo paused, looking a little taken aback. “Mark.” he said. 

 

“Yeah.” Mark sighed. “Yeah, don’t make me regret saying it.” He leaned in a little, moving to tug Milo into a hug. He slid his arms around Milo’s waist and buried his face into Milo’s chest. “I love you and I fucking need you, you bastard. So from now on… we have to be a team, okay?” he requested. “Whatever you’re facing down I want to face it with you. Don’t leave me on the sidelines and assume I’m going to be okay. Because I’m only really okay when you’re here with me.”

 

Mark closed his eyes tightly. He felt Milo move, sliding his hand into his hair, the other finding its place against his back, as Milo held him tightly. 

 

“I love you too, Mark.” Milo whispered. “That’s the only reason I did everything like this. Because if you’d gotten hurt it would kill me.” He said.

 

“Yeah, well, I think I had it slightly worse. I left my soul in the hands of a complete stranger, you know.” Mark said. “The lengths I’m willing to go through just to keep you.” He said. 

 

“Okay. I get the point.” Milo told him. “Next time something like this comes up, although the gods willing, this won’t be happening again.” he said firmly. “I will bring you with me.” 

 

“Good. Good.” Mark nodded. He could live with that. 

 

“Did anything else happen?” Milo asked him, casually. 

 

“Oh, yeah.” Mark said, looking to Milo. “A lot more. I ran into…” He pointed in the direction of the now dessicated bride. “That. She had a sister, somewhere, that we probably ought to be wary about, but I haven’t seen her in a while. Oh… and then there was this kid.” 

 

Milo gave him a look. “A what?”

 

Mark looked to him, a little taken aback at his tone. “A kid. Why…. why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. 

 

“Because that's impossible.” Milo told him. “Mark, children don't go to hell.”

 

Mark blinked at him. Then blinked again, in confusion. “What did you just say?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard the man correctly the first time.

 

“I'm not being dismissive of what you think you saw.” Milo was quick to add. Smart man, trying to negate the argument before it began. “But you couldn't have seen a kid. Not a real one” 

 

“Milo I just spent the past day with the cutest little ball of spunk and pep you've ever seen and you're going to try and tell me it wasn't real?” Mark demanded. Milo sighed. 

 

“It was an illusion, or maybe a demon trying to trick you. But it just couldn't have been a kid. Mark, there's an actual rule about that. Children are too pure and innocent, and their.. when they die so young it's unbelievably tragic. They don't go to hell. Their souls are protected and received elsewhere.” Milo tried to explain, but Mark shook his head

 

“I know what I saw, and… and I don't think she ever died. Or at least not officially. She said her father traded places with her. Yeah, something happened and she was taken down here, and her dad offered himself to free her. It was sad, it was something that really affected her.” Mark insisted, but the look Milo was giving him didn't change. 

 

“There's a lot of things it could have been.” Milo finally said. Mark gave him a stunned look. 

 

“So you don't believe me.”

 

“I'm not denying that what you saw… that it happened. But I don't think it's as black and white as you seem to think.” Milo told him at length. “This place is meant to be a trap. Souls come in and they aren't supposed to leave. It’s designed to confuse you. It will shift the landscape around you so that you lose your sense of direction. It will send you people from your past to mislead you. It will search out your weaknesses and exploit them.” Milo tried to tell him. “Trust me, I know this place more intimately than I'd like to admit.” He said.

 

“But how is a little girl that I've never met before supposed to be a weakness? My weakness?” Mark demanded. “If that was the case, why not show me you? An illusion of you would have kept me running in circles for months.” He said. 

 

“I don't know.” Milo admitted after a moment. “The only other thing I could think of to explain it is... well, time isn't a linear thing here. Anything that can happen and anything that has happened is all kind of…” Milo made a motion with his hands, smashing his palms together. “Maybe what you saw just hasn't happened yet. At least not in our timeline.” He said.

 

“That doesn't explain what her significance is yet.” Mark told him. 

 

“Maybe it will come to you. Or, I don't know. She might not exist, even, so what's the point of wondering?” Milo sighed. “Come on, let me get you home.”

 

Mark frowned a little as Milo took his hand.

 

“No, I'll get  _ you _ home.” Mark decided, sliding his hand from Milo's palm to his wrist. “Hold onto your butt because I have a special ticket.”

 

~~

 

It wasn't often that Mark was able to get one over on Milo. Milo had this supernatural ability to be aware and unsurprised by anything Mark has ever done or did. He was usually able to anticipate him. Mark could pretty much never get the drop on Milo because the man was already somehow onto him and his bullshit.

 

So to see Milo be the one looking surprised (and maybe even a little sick) after Mark had transported them back to their world was so incredibly satisfying to him. Yeah, he had a lot of issues with Damien, the way be conducted business, the way he kind of dropped him into hell without explaining anything about it, yeah, those were all things that agitated Mark. But gifting him the ability to pull one over Milo? That made the aggravation almost totally worth it.

 

“That was… different.” Milo said, looking stunned as he stumbled back. Mark grinned a little, tugging at Milo's arm to keep him upright. 

 

“I like being on this side of things. Feels good.” Mark replied. 

 

“Don’t get used to it.” Milo replied, sighing a little as he straightened himself out. He seemed so put out by Mark’s handle on things, and that made him feel a little oddly giddy. 

 

“So.” Milo said, after a moment. “Where’d you return us to?” he asked. 

 

“Uhhh…” Mark said, suddenly paying better attention to his surroundings. He glanced over his shoulder, then followed the direction his head was turned to, moving his body around in a circle as he looked for any sign of where he once was. That was when that he realized he was nowhere near the canyon he had camped out at with Virgil. In fact he had no idea where the two of them were at all. 

 

“Fucking Damien with his fucking bullshit.” Mark finally cursed. “He said that spell was going to take us right back to where I left.”

 

“Maybe he was off on his coordinates.” Milo shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not an expert in his kind of witchery.” 

 

“Don’t call him that. Virgil says it makes him mad.” Mark replied, shaking a finger in his direction. Milo just kind of smirked at that.

 

“Right, right, I forgot how tender his masculinity could be sometimes.” he said, moving to take Mark’s hand again. “Let’s just walk.” he said. “We’re bound to reach a settlement, or river, something.” he told him. 

 

“Is that really such a good idea in a desert?” Mark asked, because, he remembered pretty damn well how his last stroll in the desert had ended. He remembered being so sunburnt and dehydrated. His skin, especially on the back of his neck had bubbled up and blistered. He was just all around tired for days after.  

 

“This isn’t like the last desert we were in.” Milo told him. “Here it’s rained recently.”

 

That meant there was probably bodies of water underground that Milo could control, and that was a little comforting. At least they’d have access to water so they wouldn’t die. 

 

“Okay, fair, I guess.” Mark told him. “What are we going to do about the sun though? Am I going to die from a sunburn?” He asked, and Milo rolled his eyes. 

 

“Always so dramatic.” he said, as he moved to remove his jacket. Mark wondered what the hell he was doing, if Milo really expected him to wear that in this heat, but instead Milo just kind of held it over him, creating an effective barrier for him from the sun. 

 

“There.” Milo said. “I won’t burn like you do, so this should be fine.” 

 

“How sweet. Whoever said chivalry is dead.” Mark chuckled a little.  He still wasn’t all that excited about walking, being that he still felt sore and sick, but what else could one do in this situation?

 

Mark and Milo walked together through the desert in this fashion. In relative quiet, the wind whipping around them, steadily picking up and slowing down in kind of a gentle, roiling manner. They walked for a good long time, kind of speaking quietly to each other, when one or the other had something to say. 

 

Mark finally spoke up, having had something on his mind for a while. “What exactly did they want you to get for them? The Morrigan.” He clarified, looking to Milo curiously. 

 

Milo looked to Mark. “Oh…” he said, seeming to realize he’d never even mentioned it since reuniting with the other man. “She wanted her husband’s staff returned.” he told Mark. He pulled down the jacket he was holding up over the other man, folding it and placing it over his elbow. Then with a flourish that reminded Mark of one of Damien’s parlor tricks, Milo produced the staff. 

 

It just kind of looked like an ordinary staff, to Mark. It was wood, bound with a thin rope for a grip, and covered liberally with engravings that resembled runes to his untrained eye. It looked like every other Gandalf cosplay accessory he’d ever seen, so he wondered what made it so special. 

 

“Does it do anything?” Mark asked, as he leaned in to look at it.

 

“Well, I don’t know.” Milo admitted, as he tipped the thing to the side, studying it. “I haven’t tried to use it or anything.” 

 

Mark hummed a little to himself, looking around. There were a number of trees nearby, palm trees, the odd cactus. He pointed to the small cluster of plants nearby. He figured if Milo directed against the trees, they could see what it did, and it probably wouldn’t hurt anything important. “Try it.” He said, pointing at the tiny grove. “Let’s see what happens.”

 

Milo gave him a little look, like maybe he was about to protest the idea. But before he could, Milo seemed to just kind of shrug it off, letting his inner ‘dumb guy holding an experimental weapon’ take over. He knew the man had to be as curious about it as he was. 

 

As Milo approached the grove, he reached out with the bottom of the staff, and firmly struck the bottom of the tree closest to them. It made kind of a hollow, ringing sound.

 

At first, nothing seemed to happen, and both men seemed a little disappinted. Then Mark’s eyes grew wide when the tree began to dip over, turning a dark shade of brown. Right before his eyes the palm fronds began to turn brown and die, falling from the tree as it began to rot. A bird who’d been resting on one of it’s branches suddenly fell to the ground, dead. And just when Mark thought it was done, the spell began to spread, affecting the other trees.

 

“Milo!” Mark shouted, as the spell began to travel. Milo grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his back, under his shoulders and practically carried him back, moving away from the group of dying trees with him. A nearby cactus turned brown and shrivelled up in front of them. A rattlesnake who’d been lying on a stone, soaking in the sun’s rays suddenly fell from the rock and didn’t move again. The grass, already dry and scattered from trying to grow in a dessert died entirely, turning into unrecognizable, impossibly thin sticks sprouting up out of the dirt. Mark grabbed onto Milo as the spell finally came to a stop, a few inches from their feet.

 

Mark was clutching onto the man’s shoulder so hard he was sure that his nails had left little crescent shapes in Milo’s skin. 

 

“Shit.” Mark finally said, after a moment, once things had quieted down.

 

“Yeah.” Milo agreed, sounding breathless. He seemed just as stunned as Mark was. “Let’s not do that again.” he said. 

 

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, finally loosening his grip on Milo, once it seemed like it was safe to do so.

 

“Are you two playing with something that doesn’t belong to you?”

 

Milo suddenly turned on his heel, the staff braced in front of him and Mark in a defensive posture. Moving on pure instinct. Mark stayed close, slightly behind him, looking over his shoulder to see who was speaking to them. It wasn’t hard for him to see that they were now being spoken to by the remaining women of the Morrigan, and a very tall, incredibly muscular man who was very obviously their husband. And they looked fucking pissed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......I know this chapter took a while. Lmao. But if you saw, this series now has three works in it, not just two. Yeah, I felt like I needed to write one of the one shots out to go along with this chapter. Some of the stuff that happened in that one shot is gonna be important later. 
> 
> Hopefully, the next chapter isn't going to take me as long as this one did. I don't think I have a lot of big events coming up that will delay it, and this month? This month has been the month of delays and bullshit and me running off to do other projects. But! Getting focused, getting back into the swing of things. 
> 
> I haven't given up on this story yet, I think that's a good thing. I mean, unless you hate my writing and think it's garbage. In which case... I'm... sorry...?


	7. Better Dig Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, if you've made it this far in this disaster of a fic, now is the time for me to begin to break out those warnings. (Thank you to Kitshady for giving me this idea.) Scroll down to the bottom notes for your Spoilery Warning, if you wish.

Mark raised a hand to the hem of his shirt, glancing carefully between Milo and the small group in front of them. Milo looked a little tense, but once he recognized the three of them, he stepped out of his defensive position, tipping his chin up, spreading his legs to make himself look broader. Mark could see that he was trying to look tough in front of the trio, and he wondered if that was harder or easier to do with Mark standing behind him, looking absurdly out of place here. He also half-wondered if maybe he ought to suggest to Milo not giving them the staff, considering what they had just witnessed, but before he could properly air out his reservations Milo spoke up. 

 

“Here, I found your damn staff.” Milo replied, holding it out in front of him and tossing it at the man’s feet. The man gave Milo a dirty look, angry and filled with absolute contempt for the both of them. “Now leave me and Mark out of your squabbles with the underworld. Like we agreed.” Milo demanded. 

 

“Milo, I’ve got a bad feeling…” Mark said low, placing his hand flat against Milo’s shoulder bone. That guy did not look like he was used to having someone take that kind of a tone with him, and he thought that maybe they ought to just try and go. 

 

Mark watched as one of the women moved to pick up the staff, offering it back to her husband in a move that spoke highly of her respect for him. She was used to being a queen, but she deferred out of love to her husband. He snatched it out of her hand, looking incredibly, incredibly angry at Mark and Milo’s apparent disrespect. Which was impressive, because Mark hadn’t even managed to really open his mouth yet. 

 

If Milo was nervous he gave no indication. The man just stepped back, reaching behind himself to take Mark’s hand. Mark squeezed it in return, trying to offer his support. 

 

“Don’t think for a moment, child of Poseidon, that our business is done here.” The man’s voice rumbled. 

 

“And why not?” Milo demanded. “You have what you wanted. You don’t need anything else from us.” he said. 

 

“Your conquest has grievously injured us.” One of the Morrigan said. “We demand reparations in his blood.” She said, pointing behind him in Mark’s direction. Which Mark just rolled his eyes at, before figuring he probably should have had a better reaction than just, rolling his eyes at the cliche demands, but honestly? He was tired. He’d been beat to hell. Literally, while he was in hell. If death took him in that moment he wasn’t so certain there would be a measurable difference.

 

“Right, after you attacked him. Which, as I know to be true, was right after you and I...” He said, pointing in one of the women’s direction. “...had agreed that I would travel to find you the staff. There was no point in going after him.” Milo pointed out. “So honestly, her death is on her own hands. You fucked up trying to take him as an insurance policy.” Milo sounded confident to Mark’s ears, but the man was already edging him backwards. Getting a head start on that retreat, he guessed. “So cut your losses. We brought you what you demanded. Take this as a learning experience, the next time you all think you’re getting smart.” 

 

“There is no walking away from this.” One of the women said. “The pain he forced us to live through. The loss of one of our own. There’s no going back. He has to die.”

 

Milo went for his knife then, twirling it with a flourish before moving back into his defensive position. So, this was going a lot worse than Mark had foreseen, even with Damien’s warning. “Milo, maybe we don’t threaten them…”

 

They were severely outnumbered. Mark was hot and tired. He’d been sick. He’d actually nearly died the night before. Or was it earlier that day? Time was still kind of a blur to him right then. Either way, he didn’t see any good outcomes from fighting these people. But Milo didn’t look like he was about to back down, either, the idiot. 

 

The worst part about what happened next was that Mark could see it coming long before it happened, like he was watching a movie in slow motion. It was such a simple thing. A person’s pure gut reaction. Even if Mark had been able to say something in time, he’s not sure he could have stopped it. The man swung out with his cane, using the bottom part of the staff like Milo had done to the tree a few minutes before. Just on instinct, Milo put his free hand out to block the hit, catching the bottom of the staff in the palm of his hand.

 

As soon as the weapon made contact, there was a crackle of energy. 

 

“No…” Mark whispered, feeling his heart come to a stuttering halt in his chest.

 

Mark watched as Milo seemed to freeze in place. His skin turned from an olive, mediterranean tan, to a sickly, pale, almost papery white. The veins darkened on his face and changed color, growing larger, more noticeable, before ending their transformation in a dark black color. His lips turned a dusty white. His eyes dulled, from a dark green to a silvery grey, before rolling back entirely. His cheeks fell inward, making his bones look more pronounced. When he finally fell, he looked more like a corpse than the tall, proud god he had once known.

 

“No.” Mark said again, trembling, leaning over the other man. In that moment he forgot about the others standing around him, still very much a threat. He knelt down beside the other man, almost afraid to touch him. His body looked so frail. It had all happened so suddenly, like a flash in Mark’s eye. How could he have gone from being so strong to this pale shadow? 

 

He gently slide his hands under Milo’s shoulders, pulling the man up so that he could rest the man’s head in his lap. It was a position that was familiar to Mark, they’d spent a couple of lazy mornings like this. Mark had always had a tendency to get up early, while Milo was more of a night owl. Mark had gotten used to just sitting in this position, working on a tablet or even his phone, while Milo continued to rest. He’d always loved moments like that. This felt so much different, so much worse. A mockery of those intimate moments. Milo’s chest didn’t seem to be moving.

 

Was he dead?

 

“Pity.” the man who had caused this suddenly spoke up. 

 

Mark felt something in him snap. 

 

He reached up, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly missed the hem of his shirt. He pulled off the pendant with a sharp yank, breaking the leather strap that kept it tied to him. 

 

The other three took a step back, as one when they realized what was happening. The two women took up offensive positions, weapons aimed at Mark as he gently tugged Milo closer, wrapping a protective arm around the man’s shoulders. 

 

“Yeah, you know what’s a real damn shame?” Mark asked the other man. “Everyone I know keeps acting like this pendant is  _ soooo  _ terrifying, but no one really wants to tell me how it works, or, anything.” Mark shrugged a little. 

 

“Now wait a minute.” The man tried, holding tightly to his staff. “We can talk about this.” 

 

“Oh?” Mark said. “Now, now that’s you’ve seen my equivalent to a rocket launcher, now, now you want to talk? Let me guess, you just wanna walk away, pretend like nothing happened?” Mark asked. “Kind of like what I was trying to suggest a few minutes ago, you braindead, ruthless. pieces of walking-” He said.

 

“Macha.” The man suddenly called. One of his wives looked over. The tense look on her face was superbly satisfying. “Don’t let him…”

 

Mark shattered the pendant in his hand. He was nearly stunned at how easy it was for him to do. It turned into silvery, glittering specks of dust in his palm. Almost immediately, the wind began to pick it up, carrying the tiny shards away. 

 

That was when all hell broke loose.

 

~~

 

Several miles away, Virgil was preparing to spend his sixth day camping in the bed of his truck. He was doing pretty good on food thus far, but if Mark was gone any longer he knew he’d probably have to visit a convenience store to shore up his supplies. He had a tendency to pack much more than he needed anyways, because of how often he ran into other campers who hadn’t done the same. Water hadn’t been a problem due to the steripen. The creek hadn’t abated much, due to the heavier than normal rainfall. 

 

There really hadn’t been much for him to do, waiting here like this. He’d spent some of his time looking for the final, remaining succubus he knew was out there. Some of his time he’d spent in his truck, listening to a couple of books on tape, while charging his phone. Sometimes he even had signal enough to browse the internet. He supposed some people might have gone mad just sitting here like this, but he rather enjoyed the alone time. It gave him time to clear his mind, and allow him to find some peace. 

 

He was busy cleaning his face with some of the sterilized water when he saw a familiar car pull up next to his truck. He wasn’t surprised to see the door open, with first the large grey wolf emerging, followed by his owner. Damien was looking disgruntled, annoyed, maybe. 

 

Virgil smirked a little, grabbing the shirt he’d set aside to dry a little and pulling it back on, before approaching the other man. 

 

“Welcome back.” Virgil greeted cheerily. Damien shot him a look, like he’d actually said something offensive. 

 

“You look like shit.” was the curt reply he received.

 

Virgil grinned a little. He pulled a hair tie out of one of his pockets, moving to pull his longish black hair back. It was a little more difficult than normal, considering he’d just washed it, and it was a little more curly and unruly at the moment. “I’ve been camping out in a desert for almost a week. I think I’ve done pretty good for myself.” he said. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all got problems.” Damien huffed a little. 

 

“I didn’t expect to see you back here. At least not so soon.” Virgil noted quietly. Damien shrugged.

 

“Yeah, I finally met up with her, gave her your message.” he said. 

 

“And…?” Virgil asked, at length. 

 

“What do you think, and…?” Damien replied, mocking the tone of his voice. “She was pissed. She said I should have stayed out here with you.” 

 

“Yeah? Did she really?” Virgil asked. That was kind of nice, knowing that she was back in WeHo thinking about, or even worrying about him. Damien scowled a little. 

 

“Yeah, she did, really.” Damien said. 

 

“I’m guessing she’s the reason you’ve been banished back to this desolate place.” Virgil said. 

 

“Wipe that smug ass look off of your face.” Damien replied. “Prick.”

 

Virgil chuckled at that. “Well you’re welcome to join me.” he said. “There really hasn’t been much going on, no sign from Mark.” 

 

“I’m not convinced you’re going to…” Damien was interrupted, hearing something that sounded like thunder, crackling, depositing its fearful energy nearby. That was a surprise to both men. It was nearing the end of winter at this point, and it was supposed to be a relatively mild, warm day. They definitely weren’t expecting any rain in this area, not for a while.

 

“Dry lightning?” Virgil asked, tipping his head up to the sky. It had been a little bit overcast that morning, but usually all that gray cloud cover would burn up before noon. 

 

“I don’t know.” Damien said, and he was looking up too. The wind was beginning to pick up now too. At his feet, Griever let out a whine. Taking his cue from the wolf, Damien began to head back to his car. Virgil followed, grabbing his jacket along the way and having to run after the other man to keep up. As they reached his car, hail began to fall, smashing into the ground around them, sending up little clouds of dust. The wind continued to grow, whipping around them, threatening to take the two men down. 

 

“What’s going on?” Virgil had to shout in order to be heard above the wind. 

 

“Get in.” Damien shouted back. “I think this is Mark’s way of letting us know he’s back.” 

 

~~

 

Mark moved again, once the chaos really picked up. The wind whipped over and around them, making it hard for him to sit upright, so he finally just gave in, lying down beside the other man. Lighting cracked across the sky, looking absolutely surreal, striking objects very close to them. Dust and pebbles and errant raindrops struck their bodies, hitting them with such ferocity that it felt like dozens of tiny needles striking their skin. Mark thought he could hear screaming in the distance, but he honestly didn’t care. If those arrogant gods were fighting the elements to stay alive, well, good. Mark had long since had his fill of them. 

 

He was on his side, his hand moving along Milo’s body. It was still, too fucking still. Pale and fragile. It was like he wasn’t even looking at the same man. A gust of heated wind dried the tear tracks on his cheeks, leaving behind a sticky dust trail. That was when Mark realized he’d been crying. 

 

When the hail began to come down he moved, just slightly, angling his body over Milo’s to try and protect him from the worst of it. He stayed like that until a rather large chunk of ice hit him in the forehead, and he fell, passing out quickly after. 

 

He came to briefly, just long enough to see Damien’s figure standing over him and Milo, one hand, holding his cane, upraised. The wind, lightning and hail and rain seemed to move around him, and Mark realized, dimly, fighting his concussed brain to understand that they were being shielded from the storm he’d summoned. 

 

As his eyes slid closed again, he thought he heard Virgil’s voice calling to him, shaking his arm. “Stay with us.” he recognized the words. 

 

He tried, but there was little he could actually do. He slid into unconsciousness once more. 

 

~~

 

Mark felt cold.

 

That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up again. It was the feeling and scent of recycled air that got his attention first. It was so different from the heat of the storm. 

 

“Milo?” Mark didn’t even realize at first that it was him talking until he’d said it. His ears felt like they were ringing, in a weird, hollow sort of way. There was a vibration that he could feel but it wasn't producing any sound.

 

“Hey.” He heard the reply, but it wasn’t Milo saying it.

 

“Virg?” Mark questioned, as he pushed himself into a more upright position. He realized then that he’d been slumped over somewhat, sitting in the front seat of a car. A really nice car. He froze up a little, having flashbacks to another time he'd been knocked out and woke up in an exceedingly nice car. But, then he felt a gloved hand gently press against his shoulder, and the projected calm that came with it. 

 

Virgil always had the ability to soothe his nerves. That was just the manner he had. “Hey.” Virgil said, gently pulling his hand back to concentrate back on the road. “Next road stop I’ll pull off for a few minutes.” he said. “You had me scared for a while there. Like we were gonna lose you, but Damien said you were just sleeping.” 

 

Mark chewed his bottom lip for a moment, raising a hand to scratch at his forehead and instantly regretted it when pain erupted through his poor abused skull. “Fuck, what…?” He began to ask. 

 

Virgil took one hand off the wheel again and smacked Mark’s hand away from himself. “Don’t touch it.” he said. “You got a pretty bad bump on the head before Damien and I could reach you.” he said. “If you’re feeling a little watery? That’s a concussion.” Virgil told him.

 

“Hurts.” Mark complained. Even his teeth felt sore after the hit he’d taken. “Where…. Where’s Milo?” He managed to ask, though it took him a couple of tries to properly execute the sentence. 

 

“Yeah I bet it hurts.” Virgil gave him a slightly worried look. “He's in the back, with Damien.” He said. 

 

Mark looked over his shoulder. The two men were both buckled in, with the giant wolf sitting between them. He lifted his head when Mark glanced at him, wagging his tail cheerfully.What Milo still looked like made Mark shiver. For some reason, Milo looked so much worse now than he did before. Maybe it was just that the lighting was better, but he honestly thought he could have taken him for a corpse. Mark felt his heart sink heavy in his chest as he examined him. He thought about their relationship, how things were just getting started. Hell, they’d both only just told each other that they’d loved each other just before they were attacked. It just didn’t seem fair to think that that could have been the last time they said the words to each other too. Beside both the wolf and Milo, Damien was the exact opposite, appearing to just be resting, using his hand for a pillow against the gentle incline of the leather seat. 

 

“Damien’s sleeping.” Virgil explained, once Mark resettled in his seat. “I guess that shielding spell he cast took a lot out of him. But Milo…” 

 

“Is he… I… I mean… is Milo…?” Mark began to ask, but he  couldn’t quite bring himself to finish asking the question. He could feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest, slow and hard, as anxiety welled up inside of him. What was he going to do if Milo didn’t make it? 

 

“He’s still alive.” Virgil told him. “Alive but… I don’t know. The way Damien described it didn’t make much sense.” He said. “Mark, you were there. If you can, can you tell me what happened?” he asked. 

 

“I’m not sure I know.” Mark said, his voice coming out uncomfortably small. “We were attacked. Three powerful gods. They did this to Milo and... I used the pendant.” He said.

 

“Yeah, we know all about that.” Virgil replied. “Then what?” 

 

“I don’t know…. I don’t know what happened after that.” Mark swallowed, finding his throat very dry right about then. 

 

“Probably the concussion has something to do with that.” Virgil said.

 

“What did Damien say?” Mark questioned. 

 

“About Milo?” Virgil asked. “He kind of described it as a magical coma. He said it was like there were two competing spells inside of him.” Virgil answered. “One working to kill him, one working to fix the damage the other was doing. He called it, and I’m quoting here, ‘the circus of fuck logic.’” 

 

“Right.” Mark muttered out, sinking back against the seat. He really wished he could touch his head, because he could have sworn the pain was getting worse. “Is he going to make it?” 

 

“Well, Damien said there’s only one person who can help him now, that’s where we’re headed.” Virgil told him, tapping at his phone, which he was currently using as a GPS, attached to the dahboard. “Do you know a Cersa Cabeiri?” 

 

“Fuck. Me.” Mark said. If his head didn’t already hurt before, it would be raging right then. 

 

Virgil shot him a confused side-glance. “Uh. Is that a not a good thing?” 

 

“Yes. No. Yes? No. No no no.” Mark finally answered, sounding as confused as he felt. “She’s Milo’s sister, she might actually know how to help him.” Mark began. 

 

“That’s good.” Virgil replied. 

 

“But she was fried to a crisp a while ago.” Mark said. “She’s alive, her mother’s taking care of her.” 

 

“So she’s incapacitated…. At least she’s okay?” Virgil tried to look on the brighter side. Mark gave Virgil another strained look. 

 

“Her mother is the one who set me up to get kidnapped by the goddess who dragged me out into the dessert.” He finally added. 

 

“Oh. Oh!” Virgil said, as he realized. “So we really don’t know what we’re driving into.” 

 

“Not a bit.” Mark sighed, as he tried to find a comfortable position to relax in. There really wasn’t many. His body felt so abused and weak. 

 

Virgil licked his lips, seeming to think things over for a moment. “Well, here’s the plan.” he finally decided. “I’m pulling off at the next rest stop. I’m going to check the bump on your head, let you get refreshed if you want, and then we’ll finish the trip to Cersa’s. Once we get there, let me check the place out first, see if it’s still dangerous or if things have calmed down, and I’ll come back and get the rest of you.” he said. 

 

“Yeah, sure.” Mark agreed. He didn’t even have the energy to argue, which was pretty unlike him. “I’ll keep an eye on Milo.” he said. 

 

“Yeah, there you go.” Virgil replied cheerfully. “You do that.” 

 

Mark felt like there was something vaguely sarcastic in that tone, but he let it go. Virgil was still a saint for everything he'd done for Mark thus far. 

 

“How long did you wait for me out there?” He finally asked, curious. 

 

“About a week.” Virgil said, looking over to Mark. “How long was it for you?” he asked. 

 

“I…” He paused, thinking it over. His various memories were so jumbled right then, and he didn’t know if it was the concussion talking, or the jumble of emotions he was feeling right then. “I couldn’t even tell you.” Mark said. “Time was weird there. Milo explained it to me, but it’s hard to grasp the idea that time there isn’t linear.” He tried to explain.

 

“I get how that can be confusing.” Virgil hummed a little. “We’ll be in Phoenix in a few hours.” Virgil told him. “Maybe try to rest until then.” He offered. 

 

Mark nodded softly, closing his eyes. It didn’t take him too long to eventually drift off. The last thing he heard before he did, was Virgil flipping on the radio. Couldn’t have been easy on the other man, driving all that way while everyone else was varying degrees of passed out around him. He was a trooper, that was for sure. Mark thought he could kind of admire that. He made himself as comfortable as he could, closing his eyes and waiting to fall back asleep again. 

 

_ Hours after a fatal storm hits Borrego Springs, three more bodies have been found, washed up in the area of Coyote Canyon, in what was once a dry riverbed. Experts say that the weather, while unusual for this time of the year, can get dangerous quickly in the area, and can result in severe flash floods, which is what they believe happened to these three. Their identities are being kept hidden until the authorities can positively identify them and notify their next of kin.  _

 

_ Our meteorologists are tentatively calling the event a derecho, and although these storms are not common to the area, they do experience the occasional microburst or tornado. These are typically minor events, and scientists are baffled at how such a storm could have sprang up so quickly. Some campers barely escaped with their lives- _

 

Mark’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he demanded, looking at the radio like it had up and bitten him. Virgil looked to him, surprised.

 

“Fuck, sorry,  I thought you were asleep!” Virgil said, as he quickly changed the channel on the radio. 

 

“What were they talking about?” Mark demanded. “What storm? Was that my storm?” he asked. “Did I actually kill people?” He asked, fearing what Virgil’s answer would be.

 

Virgil looked to him. “It’s not your fault.” he said firmly. Mark felt his heart break. 

 

“How many? Who were they?” He asked. Mark was pretty much freaking out, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself either. “I have to fix it…”

 

“Mark, settle down.” Virgil told him firmly. “You’re not fixing anything, at least not for a while.” he said. “You have to get better, first.” 

 

Mark felt the guilt consume him, as he sank back down in the seat. “You don’t understand.” he said. “Damien warned me about the pendant and I used it anyways.” He said,  raising up his hands and digging them into his eyes, as he thought about it. “And if it’s my fault those people died I could never forgive myself. All because I couldn't chill...” 

 

“Mark, if you hadn’t done it you’d be dead. Kasmilos too.” Virgil assured him. “Don’t beat yourself up because you made a call.” he said. 

 

“But I dragged innocent people into a beef with-”

 

“Mark.” Virgil sighed. “You can’t do this. You can’t beat yourself up.” Virgil said. “I get that it’s bad, and, it’s going to hurt for a while. Nothing you can do about that.” He said. “But you’re hurt, and Milo’s hurt. You can deal with this once you’re both healed, okay?” 

 

Mark shot Virgil a glare, but he knew it was weak.

 

Virgil straightened up a little. “Besides…. Those people who died were camping out in flash flood areas. There’s signs everywhere; they warn you not to make camp there, for this exact reason.” Virgil said. “If anything, they took their lives into their own hands, and paid the price for it.” He said. “Not saying they deserved it. But they died by their own decision.”

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Mark mumbled. 

 

“Not really.” Virgil admitted. “I'm just trying to point out to you that it's not all your fault. You can’t take on all the world’s problems. You’ll just burn out harder.” He said. “Just relax for now. We'll work everything out when the time comes.”

 

Mark didn't like it, but he figured that Virgil was right. He wasn't in any position to be helping anyone right now. He settled back in for a long drive.

 

~~

 

Virgil gently pulled the bandage from his forehead, carefully examining the bump. 

 

“It’s looking good.” Virgil said. “Healing quickly. The swelling is going down, and it’s a nice, healthy shade of purple.” 

 

Mark snorted a little. “Is purple really all that healthy though?” 

 

“I mean, it’s a part of the process.” Virgil shrugged. “Means you’re healing well, and everything’s moving along as it should.” 

 

“Yeah, if you say so.” Mark held still for Virgil as he gently cleaned the injury, working to avoid smacking his glasses as he did. Damien left earlier when they parked the car, apparently to use the facilities and take Griever on a walk, and as Virgil worked on him, Mark saw the man sort of meandering back, looking like he was rubbing one of those alcohol sanitizers over his hands. Griever seemed a lot less disgruntled than he did, trotting along behind his master.

 

“There’s a damn rattlesnake in the bathroom.” Damien muttered, as he approached the car. 

 

“We’re on the border in the middle of nowhere, and you’re going to complain about the wildlife?” Mark asked. “Did you forget we’re kind of encroaching on their territory here?” Mark said, mostly because he wanted to give Damien a hard time. 

 

“I was. Warning you. You. Dipshit.” Damien spaced the sentence out in way that made him sound spectacularly annoyed. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

 

“Mm. For what?” Mark asked, as Virgil dabbed at the head injury. 

 

“For protecting you from the storm? We’re calling it Hurricane Mark.” Damien said, shaking his head a little. “Why do I do anything for anyone when they’re so unappreciative?” He mumbled. 

 

“To be fair, I thought you were doing it to shield me.” Virgil said. “Because she’ll kill you if you don’t.” He added, looking a little smug. 

 

“You'd better wipe that smirk off of your face.” Damien tried to warn him, when Virgil cleared his throat. 

 

“Griever's taking off.” Virgil replied, pointing out the wolf. “Looks like he found himself a jackrabbit.”

 

“You’re kidding.” Damien sighed. As he turned around, he spotted the wolf already pretty far out into the landscape, ducking between rocks and cacti. Damien seemed so done with everything as soon as he visually located the wolf.  He might have not had a migraine before, but he certainly did now. “Take me now, Satan.” He requested, spreading his arms out. When nothing happened he dropped them to his sides in a huff. “Nothing, huh?” Damien asked. “I swear. Earth is the real Hell. Everyday I live I feel like someone is punishing me.” He said, as he prepared to trudge out into the wilderness to collect his familiar.

 

Before he could get too far though, Mark had a thought.

 

“Hey, asshole.” Mark shouted, before Damien could get too far. Damien paused, turning back to look at him with one eyebrow raised. “What about my soul?”

 

Damien gave him a look like that was something that had completely slipped his mind until Mark brought it up. “Ah, yes. How could I forget?”

 

Damien came back over to the car, and Virgil shifted a bit to the side to give the old wizard room to work. Naturally, Mark was a little nervous without Virgil acting as his shield, but he bravely tipped his chin up and waited to see what Damien would do. He thought the man would put on more of a show, try to scare him like he did the last few times he'd used a spell on him. Instead, Damien made a small flourish with his hands and visually pushed his soul back into him. Mark couldn't see it, but he could bizarrely feel it. There was a sensation of fullness, starting from his forehead and working its way down, through his neck, his chest, to the tips of his fingers to his toes. Again, he didn't feel much different, but that dreaded heaviness from before seemed lifted.

 

“How does it feel?” Damien asked him, after a moment.

 

“Crowded.” Mark answered, feeling a little confused at the sensation.

 

“Hm. Interesting.” Damien commented flippantly, as he moved back away from the car. “Excuse me, please, gentlemen, I have a wolf to catch.” He said.

 

As Virgil moved back into place, fussing over the bump on Mark's head, Mark wondered at the whole exchange for its bizarre quality.

 

He wondered what the future had in store for himself and Milo.

 

~~

 

Mark had been anxious most of the way back to Cersa's house, and if he were being honest with himself, it wasn't just because of Milo's mother. No, Damien and Virgil were both fairly capable and he felt safe being with them. (Well, he felt safe because Virgil was there to pressure Damien into doing the right thing, that’s probably closer to the truth. Damien would bitch and moan about it, but fall into line at Virgil's gentle request.) Mostly, Mark was just worried about Milo. He worried that maybe Cersa wouldn't know how to fix him, or maybe she just couldn't. It made him fearful to think about life without the other man. How he could be expected to move on?

 

As they pulled up the familiar, gravel lined driveway, Mark saw the front door to her house swing open. Once Virgil had safely parked the car, Mark opened the door and slid out of the car, watching for a tense moment, waiting to see who would emerge.

 

“Mark, hold on…” he heard Virgil warn, as the other man hurried to join him, but as it turned out, they didn't need to fear. Cersa was the one who came running out of the house. And she looked pretty good, honestly. Except for a few red patches here and there, her skin seemed mostly recovered. Her hair was now cropped very short to her head, but Mark figured that was because of the damage that had been done to it. When your hair is falling out in clumps like that you're gonna be rocking the Ellen DeGeneres look for a while, especially with the woman’s natural hair color coming through. Cersa seemed to be making do, she'd brushed it up into a tiny mohawk, which actually looked pretty fitting for her. 

 

As she approached Virgil stood near to Mark. It was a protective gesture that he appreciated. He'd had enough of shape shifters lately to be wary of anyone. But as the woman approached it became very apparent that this was actually Cersa, and not a trick, especially as she came up and pulled him into a hug.

 

“I'm so glad you're okay.” She said softly, sliding her arms around his neck and tugging him in for a tight hug. The way her voice cracked Mark could tell there had been some damage done, likely from the smoke she'd had to inhale. She pulled back a little, placing a hand on his cheek. “As soon as Mom copped to what she did I kicked her right the fuck out.” She assured him. “No one pulls that shit on my little brother's bae.” 

 

Mark wanted to smile but… he glanced back to the car, where Milo was still slumped over in the back seat, unconscious.

 

“Cersa…” he said softly, voice wavering a little. “Milo's been hurt.” 

 

“What?” She asked, standing up on her toes so that she could peer over his shoulder. “Oh fuck.” 

 

She moved again, ducking under Mark's arm so that she could climb into the front seat, checking on her brother from the new angle. She reached a hand outside the cab, snapping her fingers at Damien.

 

“Hey, Mr. Wolfe, new guy.” She said, clearly talking to the two men. “Help me get him inside.”

 

To his side, Damien snorted. “Sure, I'll do all the heavy lifting too.” He bitched, as he moved over to that side of the car.

 

“Jesus Christ, you diva, I'll help.” Mark said, as he moved to join the other man. But before he could, Cersa was out of the car again, grabbing his arm. 

 

“Stop it right there. You let the men handle this.” She told him firmly. 

 

Mark gave her an offended look. “Look, I can handle…” 

 

“Not today you can't.” She told him, still holding tightly onto his arm. Which Mark thought that was a little weird. Did she think he was going to get away from her? She placed her other hand against his back, gently directing him to the house. 

 

“Seriously, Cersa I'm fine…” 

 

“Mark listen to me, the guys have this.” She said. “You're gonna go inside, sit down, and let us handle this.” 

 

Mark wanted to argue with her but, well, she was her brother's sister, and her grip was pretty solid. Had to be a goddess thing. He tried for a brief moment to wriggle away, but quickly found it to be pointless.  

 

As she led him inside he saw that she'd already done some work on the place. It was at least clear of debris, she just hadn't gotten around to replacing the furniture yet. Cersa took him past the main living room and into the guest bedroom. There at least the furniture seemed intact. In fact it didn't seem to have changed much since his time there the year before. She set Mark down in an oversize comfy chair, and almost immediately he had a black cat in his lap. 

 

“Don't move.” She told him, grinning as Daphnis began kneading his thighs. “I have to go supervise the knuckleheads.” She told him.

 

Mark glanced between her and the cat. “Did you plan this?” he asked her, as the little cat eventually loafed, getting himself comfortable.

 

“A good witch never reveals her secrets.” Cersa told him with a grin. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from the bump on his forehead. “I'll bring you something for that, too.” She told him, as she stood, exiting the room and leaving him alone with the loudly purring familiar.

 

Mark waited in the quiet. He shifted his thigh a little, kind of wondering what in the heck was the deal with Cersa, but as soon as he tried to move the cat sunk his claws against him, not quite piercing the skin, but the threat was certainly implied.

 

“Fucking a.'” Mark cursed quietly, feeling a little like he was the cat's hostage now. He reached down, trying to make it happy again by scratching behind its ears. 

 

A couple minutes later, Damien and Virgil entered the room, with Milo draped between them. Cersa entered a couple steps behind them, carrying an ice pack and what looked like one of those sugary, electrolyte drinks. She handed both of them to Mark. “I don't have to tell you what to do with these.” She stated, and Mark just took them wordlessly.

 

She still watched as Mark placed the bag against his forehead and opened the bottle with his teeth. He spat the cap out into his lap and gave her a defiant look which she immediately shook her head at. He didn't care though, it made him feel like a man. Which he kind of needed, with the way Cersa had been treating him, ever since they got there.

 

“Just set him on the bed.” She directed to Damien and Virgil, following after them so she could check on her brother. 

 

“Be careful.” Mark added, as he looked over in concern. He wanted to get up and move over to the bed, but the cat in his lap wouldn't allow him to move. He had to wonder if there wasn't something else at play there, too,  because he literally felt like he couldn't move. Like the cat was magically restraining him somehow. Milo didn't look much different from how he did in the car, or in the desert. Even still, Mark wasn't used to seeing him like this, like he was just so fragile. 

 

“Yes yes, we got it, we got it.” Damien replied, his voice strained as he helped Virgil to maneuver the unconscious man onto the bed. Cersa frowned as she stepped over, placing her hand on her brother's arm.

 

“Here, let me get…” Virgil moved around Cersa, taking the man's feet and helping to get his shoes off, placing them neatly on the ground, side by side. 

 

Cersa just kind of sadly ran her fingers through her brother's hair. “Oh, Kaz.” She whispered. “What have you gone and done to yourself now?” She asked.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Mark asked, feeling his heart thud dully in his chest again, welling up with anxiety. 

 

Cersa glanced to him. 

 

“Well.” She finally said at length. “I couldn't tell you. He's alive.” She told Mark. “But for how long…”

 

“There has to be something.” Mark spoke up, not liking the way this conversation was headed. 

 

She shrugged a little. “There's a couple of things we could try.” She said, motioning to him. When Mark didn't move she realized. “Oh, for crying out- Daphnis you have to let him up, you can have scratchies later.” If a cat could shoot someone a dirty look, Mark was pretty sure Daphnis would have sent one in Cersa's direction right then. 

 

Cersa tried again. “Come on… for an extra special treat tonight?” She asked the animal.

 

“Are you really failing at negotiating with a cat right now?” Mark asked her after a moment. 

 

“What do you want from me, he's not a normal cat, he's a magic cat.” She huffed.

 

“I've got this.” Damien spoke up, whistling. “Griever!” 

 

“Oh fuck me.” Cersa swore as the giant wolf poked its head into the room. “I just got this house kind of in order, if they fuck it up again…”

 

“Oh, they'll be fine.” Damien assured her, as Daphnis got up and began hissing at the wolf. Griever didn't actually have much of a reaction, staring at the cat kind of quizzically. “We're just going to let them run off that obstinate energy.”

 

Daphnis leapt off of Mark's lap, dashing past the door and past Griever. Griever followed pretty quickly, not really acting aggressive, just curious. Once the two familiars had left the room, Virgil carefully closed the door, locking them out.

 

Free again, Mark stood up, carefully making his way over to the bed. 

 

“Here.” Cersa said, leading Mark closer to the head of the bed. “We're gonna try true love's kiss.”

 

Mark was quiet for a moment. “Are you serious?” he asked. It sounded like a joke.

 

“Totally.” Cersa answered. “Come on, just try it.” She said. “This was how Kaz broke the curse on you last year.”

 

Damien snorted a little. “That spell was harmless in comparison to this. The cure to a sleeping curse isn't the same as the cure to a spell meant to cause death.” He pointed out sensibly. “That might not work the same.”

 

“Yeah, but it still works on stuff like this. At the least, it’s worth a shot.” Cersa insisted. “Go on, Mark.” She told him.

 

Mark was still kind of skeptical about it, but he leaned in, looking at Milo's unnaturally pale lifeless face. 

 

“Do I use tongue?” Mark joked, because this felt a little bizarre. He was leaning over his boyfriend while three people, one of them Milo’s sister, prepared to watch him mack on said boyfriend.

 

Cersa shrugged. “If that's how you true love's kiss, fuck, I'm not going to tell you how to true love's kiss.” Cersa told him. “That shit is between you and Kaz.” 

 

Mark nodded, took a deep breath, pressed his lips to Milo’s and…

 

Waited and…

 

And there was nothing. Mark pulled away, studying Milo’s face for any kind of a reaction. But he just…. Laid there. Pale and close to death as he was before. He didn’t know what he was expecting, the idea had seemed dumb, but maybe, secretly, he wanted it to be possible. He just wanted Milo to be okay. He would have done anything for it to be as simple as a kiss bringing him back.

 

“Nothing.” Damien said softly. “Got any other bright ideas? You usually have a plan B.”

 

“Fuck me.” Cersa said, leaning in to study her brother again. “Okay, well, back to the drawing board.” She said, moving to exit the room. 

 

Virgil looked between the three men. “I’m missing something here.” He said. 

 

“I get the feeling you’re missing a whole lot, but go ahead with your question.” Damien told him. 

 

“What was that supposed to do?” Virgil asked. “I thought true love was supposed to conquer all and all that.” 

 

“Well, that’s usually the case. Cersa wasn't wrong for trying it.” Damien replied with a shrug. “This must be a more powerful spell.” He said. More quietly, he added. “Like I said before, but, no one ever listens to me.” 

 

Mark bit his bottom lip. “When it happened… the man, I don’t know. Sorcerer?” Mark questioned. “He had a staff, he was… he was trying to hit Milo and Milo caught it.” He said. 

 

“Really?” Damien asked, interested. “Where is that staff now?” 

 

Mark shrugged a little. “I don’t know.” he said. “I used the pendant after Milo fell. Got hit in the head.” he said, pointing to the obvious bruise there. “Did you guys see anything after you came to pick me up?” he asked.

 

“No.” Damien replied. “But I can go and look.” 

 

“Are you okay to drive for four and a half hours?” Virgil asked the obvious question. Damien shot him a glare. 

 

“Better than you right now.” he said, holding his hand out for the keys. Virgil shrugged, dropping the keys in the palm of his hand. “Stay here and keep an eye on things. I don’t know if we can expect any kind of retaliation, but if they are attacked, I'm counting on you.” he said to Virgil, very seriously. 

 

Virgil nodded, placing a hand over the sheath at his hip. “I’ve got this.” He assured Damien. 

 

Damien seemed a little more skeptical, but he left the room without another word. 

 

Mark watched him go, looking back to Virgil questioningly. “Does that make you our bodyguard?” he questioned after a moment.

 

Virgil shrugged. “Wouldn’t be my first time in this position.” he said. “It’s alright, I’ll keep my eye on things, look out for you and Kasmilos and Cersa.”

 

Cersa re-entered the room a couple of minutes later. She handed Virgil what looked to Mark like a bag of saline solution, as she pushed an I.V. stand in front of her. “Here, walk with me.” She said. 

 

Mark looked to her, confused. “What are you doing?” he asked, backing up off of the bed so that Cersa and Virgil could work.

 

“Well, I’m not throwing in the towel per se.” She assured him quickly, as she adjusted the stand, taking the bag back from Virgil as she went to set it up. “I just have to do my research here. There’s a lot of stuff that this could be. And the true love’s kiss thing is usually the fix for… you know…” She said, kind of waving her hand over Milo’s body. “Death-like sleep.” she said. 

 

Mark glanced back to the bed. “So what are we doing in the meantime?” He asked. 

 

“Well.” Cersa shrugged a little. “Keep him hydrated. Comfortable. If it gets more serious I’ll have to do some other stuff.” She said. “I’ll have the doctor I work for come in tomorrow and help me get him more set up, but at the very least, I can do this part.” She said. “Here, newbie.” She said, directing Virgil. “We’ve gotta get him undressed, get him cleaned up, and…” 

 

“I can help.” Mark put in. He didn’t know why Cersa seemed to be purposely cutting him out of these things, but it kind of hurt. He loved this man. He wanted to do whatever he could to make him comfortable, to help him wake up. Did she somehow still think he was lesser than they were? Incapable of helping out with this? Weak, maybe? But if that were the case, why was she making an exception for Virgil, he was just as human as Mark was.

 

“You really shouldn’t.” Cersa told him. “You’re injured and you need to rest.” She told him. Mark narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“What’s really going on?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “The way you won’t let me help with anything? Are you… are you up to something?” he asked. His face fell a little as he realized. “You tried to tell me something, right before I was kidnapped. You’re up to something, aren’t you?” he said. “Or you did it already…. What did you do, Cersa?” Mark continued to pressure her. 

 

She sighed a little, looking between him and Virgil. “I think you should sit down.”

 

“No! I don’t want to sit down!” Mark said, feeling a little like he was losing his mind. “Tell me what’s going on first. What are you hiding from me?” He demanded.

 

Cersa frowned a little. Then she looked to Virgil. “Can you give us some space?” She asked him, and Virgil nodded.

 

“Yeah I’ll go… go check the perimeter. I’ll be back in a bit.” He said, removing himself from the room to give Mark and Cersa some privacy.

 

Once he had closed the door behind him, Cersa looked back to Mark. “I really do think you need to be sitting down for this, though.” She said.

 

Mark looked to her, seeing how serious she had become. It was a little unnerving. “Okay.” He finally deferred to her, moving to sit back down in the oversize chair. “So what’s the deal?” He asked her.

 

Cersa chewed her lip for a moment. “So, I know you’ve been sick. Have you been experiencing any weird symptoms lately?” She asked. “Like kind of a tired, weak feeling?”

 

Mark nodded, wondering where she was going with this. “Nausea… vomiting? Maybe it comes and goes, but it’s usually in the mornings…” She described for him, and again, Mark nodded. 

 

“Insomnia? Backache? Dizziness?” Cersa continued to list off. “Way more emotional and needy than normal?”

 

“Cersa.” Mark told her, voice quiet.

 

“I’m just saying, did, any of those symptoms strike you as familiar?” She asked him curiously.

 

“I mean…. Yeah, but I want you to say it.” Mark told her. “Cersa. Tell me.”

 

“Mark.” She said seriously. “You’re pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the remainder of this story is dealing with MPreg. But you've all probably had that all figured out by now, right? 
> 
> So if that's your thing, great! If not, I totally get why, and I harbor no hard feelings for you wanting to ditch.
> 
> You know, this past week has had me thinking long and hard about spoilers, and how people get so, so angry about them. I'm naturally talking about Endgame here. And I've never been a person who's honestly cared about having something spoiled for me. And I can tell you, without revealing much about why, (although, I think this movie had something like the biggest movie opening weekend ever, so really who hasn't seen it by now?) if I had known how that movie was going to end, there's a high likelihood I either, a) would not have seen it or b) walked out about 20 or so minutes before it ended. 
> 
> So yeah, I have things that trigger me too. And it's kind of like this weird balance in society, right? I get why people get so upset about having something spoiled for them, but I also get why people would want a head's up about something. Something that brings up bad memories, or triggers their PTSD. I personally kind of wished I had the head's up, because then for me Endgame would have been a pleasant short film about a particular character getting everything he wanted in life, the way he always deserved, because I would have left early. Lmao. 
> 
> Also it occurs to me that at this point in the first fic this was about where things were winding down. That's not gonna be the case for this one. Oh yeah, I have a lot more shit to get long-winded about. Haha.


	8. As Good As You Are (As Bad As I Am)

Mark’s eyes grew wide, and in that moment, he was kind of glad that she had made him sit down first, because otherwise, he may have hit the floor. He was experiencing the worst case of vertigo he’d ever had, and it began to feel kind of hard to breathe. He didn’t know if he was having another panic attack or a stroke, but one thing was for certain. He was so angry that he couldn’t immediately vocalize just how mad he was. “Cersa…” 

 

“Yeah?” She asked, looking over him, suddenly worried. “Oh fuck. Hey. Don’t like… are you going to pass out on me or…?” She asked. “You just got super pale.” She placed her hands against his shoulders, trying to keep him upright and in the chair.

 

“I’m so angry.” he heaved out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding, racing hard. “So angry.” And terrified, was the secondary emotion he was feeling, but he could only manage to get out that first emotion right then. Being angry was easier than being scared.

 

“Okay, well, that’s good.” She said. “Just, don’t stop breathing or anything. Focus on your rage.” She encouraged, as she tried to manage Mark’s freak out. “Just don’t pass out on me and definitely, definitely don’t cry.” 

 

“I told you, I’ve been telling you, for a year now.” Mark continued, panting a little, as he jabbed a finger in her direction. “Milo’s been telling you, for just as long. That we weren’t going to do this. He always said he would never want to put me through that, and,  and you just… did it…  _ anyways??” _ He demanded. 

 

“Mark I did it the same day we met.” She explained pulling her hands back and setting them in her lap.  “I’ve literally been spending the rest of that time trying to convince you guys that this is a great idea. I still wish I could have gotten you on board before you found out, but honestly. You were bound to notice at some point.” She said with a shrug. 

 

“That is just…” Mark shook his head. “That is so not okay I don’t even have the words to quantify how not okay that is. This is probably the third worst thing anyone’s ever done to me.”

 

“Yeah, I kind of get that now.” She said. 

 

“Oh! Okay, so you learned your lesson about not fucking with people’s bodies without their consent literally seconds after revealing you’ve completely fucked me over?” Mark asked.

 

“No, I learned that while I was arguing with Mom a couple of days ago.” She said, making an exasperated sound. “I don’t know. In my head, I knew that Mom was gonna hate you. You’re a guy, you can’t produce grandkids, you can’t extend the line, and most guys, unsurprisingly, have no interest in pursuing these kinds of spells, you know?” She asked. “So I was like, I’ll just go ahead and do the spell, and I’ll convince them this is something they want to do later. And this will heal all the family upheaval and everyone will get along swell, because the line is continuing, so everyone should be happy. I figured with all the trauma you’d been dealing with, it’d be a while before the two of you actually tried sex again, but well… you two kind of forged that path real fucking fast, there. Faster than I expected.” She said. “And on your…” She paused, looking away for a moment as she seemed to be try to count it out on her fingers. “Your eighth try, it finally took.” She said. 

 

“You kept track of the number of times we’ve had sex?” Mark asked, disturbed.

 

“No, I’ve kept track of the numbers of times you were nearly knocked up.” Cersa responded. “Totally different. At any rate, that eighth time, goddamn. Whatever you two were doing, that sucker took hold and… well, here you are.” She said. “I don’t want to say that Kaz fertilized the shit out of you, but that’s kind of exactly what he did. Good for him that the suckers are working so well at his age.” She nodded.

 

“I have never been more disturbed by a conversation in my life.” Mark replied, just kind of stunned at the direction this conversation was going. “How far along am I?” Mark asked then, just out of curiosity.

 

“Not long, really. I think maybe… three weeks? Four?” She said.She seemed to ponder his question in her head for a little, before nodding. “Not for sure with the time you spent in the Underworld. Which was a little weird by the way, in case you were wondering what that felt like on my end.” She told him. “Bizarre, cut off feeling. Don’t recommend it at all.” She frowned.

 

“Yeah, I can’t say that I’d recommend it either.” Mark tried to think back that far, trying to picture what he and Milo were doing. He sometimes had difficulty remembering what he did that morning, but he remembered that encounter. Milo had been in his mermaid form, which was something Mark hadn’t wanted to try, for obvious reasons. Because the way they’d met had been traumatizing, and he’d kind of disassociated Milo in that particular form from his very warm, very human resembling boyfriend. But for some reason, Mark had let himself be talked into it, and while it still wasn’t pleasant for him, he wasn’t as disturbed as he thought he would be. In the end it had been kind of freeing, being able to let go of that one particular fear. 

 

Figured that would be the one to knock him up. 

 

“What do I do now?” Mark asked. Now that his anger had kind of cooled a little, he’d gone from being angry, to just being kind of confused, and naturally, still scared. Terrified to move even, like there was something he could do to accidentally injure the tiny life inside of him.

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Cersa asked him. 

 

“About the baby or just…” Mark asked. “In general?” 

 

“About anything.” Cersa shrugged. 

 

He thought about it for a moment. Whether or not he even wanted a kid right then. Whether or not he thought he was ready. This wasn’t exactly a position he ever thought he would find himself in. Personally, he did kind of want to have a kid at some point. He thought he would make a good dad. So with that in mind, he would want to keep this baby.  But at the same time, it wasn’t just his decision. He wanted Milo’s input on all of this. They’d be raising this kid together, wherever life takes them. “I just want to talk to Milo.” Mark finally said softly, glancing over to the unconscious man. He just desperately longed for the other man. To talk him through his options, to have his opinion on things. To have him hold him and tell him it was all going to be alright. And the idea that he might have to spend the next eight months or so alone? Make every decision on his own? It was crushing.

 

Cersa sighed sadly. “And that’s the one thing I can’t do for you. At least, not right now.” She said, and she was glancing over at the bed now too, the whole, entirely wrong picture. He kind of wondered how she was seeing it. As someone who took care of people at their lowest. As someone who nursed others back to health. As someone who’d watched her brother become a man over ten thousand years ago. 

 

He couldn’t bring himself to ask her. 

 

She knelt down beside him, moving to throw her arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. Although Mark was still kind of ticked off at her, he so badly needed the affection that his anger was quickly forgotten. He sank into the woman’s arms and wept.

 

~~

 

Virgil looked up when Mark exited the house, moving over to join him. The man looked… well, shaken, maybe. But the bump on his head had been tended to, probably by the woman still in the house. As Mark approached Virgil scooted over, making room for Mark to sit beside him on the bench. 

 

“How are you holding up?” Virgil asked, kind of looking over Cersa’s handiwork. It seemed like Damien was at least right about that. The woman apparently knew her shit, just as the old wizard claimed, and was already plying her trade to Mark. 

 

“I mean.” Mark shrugged a little. 

 

“Mm.” Virgil hummed. “Bad news, then?” He asked. 

 

“I…” Mark paused for a moment. Virgil leaned back a bit, waiting for Mark to process out his thoughts. “No, I don’t want to call it that. I wouldn’t want to put a negative spin on the whole thing. It was news, that I would have preferred to have gotten when Milo was there.” Mark frowned then. “Well, I mean. He was there. But like. Conscious.” He explained further. 

 

“Ah. Do you want to talk about it?” Virgil offered. He knew he couldn’t take the place of the man Mark was missing, but he wondered if maybe it would help. 

 

Mark shook his head. “Let’s talk about your life instead. I can maybe handle that right now.” he said.

 

Virgil smirked a little. “Not much to tell.” Virgil said honestly. “My family and I aren’t on speaking terms, currently. I’m living in WeHo, trying out the Angeleno thing. Putting myself through school hunting vampires and teaching preschoolers.” 

 

Mark made a noise at that, sounding a little like he was laughing through his nose. “What a… what an odd contrast there. Your two jobs.” he said. 

 

“It’s a living.” Virgil smiled a little. 

 

“Lot of vampires in LA?” Mark finally asked. Virgil could tell it was something that had been on his mind, and yeah, he got that. The whole idea that the place where you live could be infested with kinds of dangers could be something of a mindblow.

 

“A good amount. But I mean, think about it. It’s a huge population. Lots of people stacked into tight spaces. The whole vampiric territory thing isn’t as big a problem out there as it is elsewhere.” Virgil said. “You have any idea how many people go missing in Los Angeles County every year? You want to guess how many of them are kids?” he asked. “In my experience, when people just up and disappear, it’s usually because a vamp got to them.”

 

Mark made a face at that, looking a lot more morose than he had before. It was enough of a change that it gave Virgil pause.

 

“I don’t want to even think about that.” Mark whispered, kicking a little at the gravel in front of him. A tiny rock skipped amongst the gravel, before finding an empty space and settling. Virgil didn’t blame him for not wanting to think about it. Virgil didn’t either, and he had such a soft spot for those kids. But it was his reality, and unfortunately a part of his job to think about these things.

 

Both men looked up when the front door swung open again, and Cersa exited the house to come and visit them. She was carrying something… and after a moment, Virgil realized it was a sandwich, wrapped half way in a piece of wax paper. He blinked a little as she came over, taking a seat on Mark’s other side, not shy at all about shoving the man into Virgil’s side. Virgil gave her an annoyed look, before scooting over, giving Mark a little more room. He wasn’t for certain what was up, but right then, something about Mark seemed a little more fragile than usual, and it kind of drew out his more protective instincts. 

 

“So, I’ve got Milo mostly set up, but my doctor friend is coming over tomorrow bright and early to set him up better than I can.” Cersa explained. “He talked about some of the things he’s gonna need. You should probably sit it out.” She told Mark. “Easy to do if you make yourself sleep in. And if you have trouble sleeping, I have ways of fixing that too.” She said, in a manner that came off as vaguely threatening.

 

“Right, that’ll be easy.” Mark said, voice dry with his sarcasm. “I thought the whole healing thing was your gig.” Mark added. She nodded. 

 

“I mean, I can do some things. My adult day-time job is a maternity nurse.” She said, glancing to Mark. “You know what they say, stick to what you know. As a fertility goddess, I know labor and delivery.” She shrugged a little. “But I can give shots, set up IV’s, catheters. Whatever. Men in magic comas are a little different, though. And I’m thinking this coma is particular to whatever happened to you guys in the desert.” She said, looking to Mark a little pointedly. “Also, speaking of the whole labor and delivery thing.” She said, suddenly offering Mark the sandwich. “I don’t know when the last time you actually ate was, but I’m guessing it’s been a while. All the running around you’ve been doing. Eat the sandwich, and don’t fight it. I have better food being delivered to the house in the meantime.” She said.

 

“You gonna force feed me if I don’t?” Mark asked, as he took the sandwich from her, inspecting it suspiciously. It didn’t look too terrible to Virgil’s eyes. Toasted rye bread with a little butter, beef, mustard and cabbage. 

 

“Oh, you don’t want to test me on that.” Cersa told him with a wag of her finger. “You know right well I will.” She said. “You’re eating for two now. So no more of that whole, ‘I was under duress and didn’t have time to think about it’ shit.” She said, half mocking his voice when she said it. “You make the time now. You  _ always _ make the time.” She told him firmly. 

 

Mark shot her a glare, but he began to eat the sandwich. Virgil glanced over, looking confused. 

 

“He’s doing what now?” He asked, leaning forward so that he could get a better look at Cersa. He didn’t think there was anyway for her to have said what he thought she said. He was mishearing things…. right?

 

“He’s eating for two.” Cersa told him. “He’s pregnant.” 

 

Mark groaned loudly at that. “You know I wasn’t actually thinking about announcing that to the world just yet.” he said, between a few frustrated bites of the sandwich. Cersa returned the hard look with just as much vehemence. Virgil chewed his bottom lip and braced for something snarky to come out of her mouth, because it sounded like the two of them had been arguing while Virgil was checking out Cersa’s property.

 

“Everyone’s going to know about it before too long.” She pointed out. “You know what happens to pregnant people? They get bigger.” She told him. “It’s not going to stay a secret. They’re going to take one look and know.” She said.

 

“Yeah well maybe I was hoping I could tell Milo first.” Mark replied, his voice growing quiet. “He deserved to be the first to know. Besides they’d... Probably just think I’m fat.” He added.

 

“Oh.” Cersa finally said, like she was just realizing his point. “Well when you put it like that I kind of feel like a monster.” she said, looking a bit pouty. 

 

“You should feel like a monster but probably not for that.” Mark threw in. 

 

“I hate to be the one always asking the questions, but…” Virgil began. “But how…?”

 

“Because Magic.” Cersa told him, tossing her hand in the air flippantly. “I used magic to build him a womb, shoved a few of his organs to the side, and magically inseminated him.” She shrugged. “It’s actually a pretty simple thing to accomplish. I have been doing this for thousands of years.”

 

“Okay, but… when it comes time to deliver, there’s nowhere for the baby to go…” Virgil began to reason out. “I mean unless you changed things…”

 

“She didn’t.” Mark put in, quietly taking another bite of the sandwich. “Trust me, I would have noticed that. I’d be a lot more freaked out and angry if she did.” He said.

 

“C-sections. Okay. They’re a thing.” She told Virgil. “Also let’s not prematurely freak out the hormonal pregnant guy, okay?” She said. “Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing. This is literally my thing.” She told him. 

 

“Fuck I didn’t even think about that.” Mark realized, hunching over a little, nearly dropping the sandwich between his thighs. “I didn’t even think about that, I’d have to have… because there’s no way… And if we don’t do it that way, me and the baby’ll...” 

 

“Ah, you know.” Virgil said, wincing a little, as Mark began to panic. He hadn’t meant to make the other man worry, he’d just been trying to reason things out, but he was realizing now that he’d pushed things too far.

 

“Yeah, let’s uh. Let’s go inside.” Cersa said, gently taking the half-eaten sandwich from Mark and tugging him up. Virgil moved to help her, keeping a hand on Mark as they gently guided the man back to the house. Virgil knew something was up, too, because Mark didn’t try to fight either of them over it, at all. 

 

Cersa guided them past the closed off room Milo was in, bringing Mark back to her own room. It was sparsely decorated, the bed the only thing left in the room. Virgil supposed the lack of furniture in the house was due less to Cersa’s need for minimalism, and rather because everything else was destroyed when she was attacked. 

 

Cersa helped Mark to have a seat on the bed. “Don’t panic.” She told him. “Please please don’t. You’re gonna be okay.” She said, as she moved to sit next to her patient. She placed her arm behind his back, gently kind of rubbing circles into the muscle there. Unsure of what else to do, Virgil just kind of awkwardly hung out in the doorway, keeping an eye on things. “Me and Virgil are both here, and everything’s going to be okay.” 

 

“I just wish Milo was here.” Mark said, voice low. “How am I going to go through this without him? I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that I’d need surgery for this, and if he’s not there…”

 

“He’ll be there, we have months.” Cersa said, trying to assure him. “We just got to figure out how to kick this thing. Whatever it is he has.” She said. 

 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Mark asks. “What if he never wakes up?” Mark asked.

 

Cersa frowned deeply at that. “He’ll pull through.” She told him firmly, with a cool determination that might have sent chills down Virgil’s spine. “He has to. Anything else isn’t an option.” 

 

~~

 

Mark couldn’t stop himself from waking up before the sun rose the next morning, even though Cersa had warned him not to. She’d told him to sleep in and miss her doctor friend’s visit, but he figured some habits just died hard. He guessed he ought to just be grateful that his trip to Hell hadn’t actually fucked up his sleep cycle all that much. 

 

He didn’t remember much of what happened after his episode the night before. He vaguely recalled that Cersa wouldn’t let him sleep until he finished the sandwich, and that he’d been pretty grumpy with her over it. Even though, yes, he knew he was deficient for calories, lately, and yes, this was for the baby more than it was for him. He knew all of these things, and yet he’d been pretty harsh with Cersa over it. He almost felt bad about it know, and a little embarrassed, because Virgil had to watch him behave like a toddler. 

 

Cersa seemed to take it all in stride though, and Mark realized that if anyone could deal with over-emotional pregnant dudes, it was probably her. In fact she was so not bothered by anything Mark had said to her, that she’d apparently fallen asleep on the bed next to him. And this, Mark knew, because she’d apparently made him the little spoon, with her hand resting on his stomach, where he presumed this strange ‘womb’ she’d built him was. 

 

It was kind of weird though, lying down next to his boyfriend’s sister like this, even if it was her bed, and he didn’t strictly object to sleeping next to her. It was just weird to be held like this by someone who wasn’t MIlo.. He gently picked up her hand and let it fall to the mattress between them, as he went to slide off of the bed. He left the bedroom in search of one of the other bathrooms in the house. (He knew Cersa had her own bathroom, but he hadn’t set foot in it since the whole necromancy incident from the year before.) So he went to the one down the hallway. Did his business, washed his hands and paused, giving his reflection in the mirror a hard look. 

 

It was kind of weird, to think that this was actually happening. That he was actually pregnant, and he was actually carrying a tiny life inside of him. There was even a part of him that wanted to think that Cersa was just making this shit up, playing the long-haul game for some kind of sick joke, but he thought he knew Cersa better than that. This didn’t seem like something she would make light of. He frowned a little at his reflection, turning to the side to kind of get an angle on his body. He even lifted up his shirt a little, checking out his stomach, but, it hadn’t changed. He guessed it was still too early to tell. 

 

“You’re not going to show for a couple more weeks, there.” Virgil finally told him, standing in the doorway. 

 

“Jesus Christ.” Mark breathed out. “You guys are all so bad for my health, popping out at me at random.” 

 

“You’re the one peeing with the door half-open. Then checking yourself out in the mirror for ten minutes.” Virgil pointed out sensibly. 

 

“You’re exaggerating.” Mark told him, as he moved to turn off the water. As he did he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. But it wasn’t really his reflection. As Mark’s eyes followed the image upward, and he caught sight of the demon once again. It’s body was pressed up against the mirror, his own smile twisted up crookedly right back at him. Dark red eyes glinting madly where there should have been brown. 

 

Mark gasped and stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. 

 

“Shit, hold on!” Virgil cursed, moving to catch Mark like the big hero he is. 

 

“Did you see that?” Mark asked, gesturing wildly at the mirror.

 

“See what?” Virgil asked, turning his head to look at the mirror. But whatever it was was long gone by now. Mark paused, gripping onto Virgil’s shirt as he watched the mirror for a good while longer.

 

“It’s gone now.” Mark told him, after a moment. 

 

Virgil, who was apparently used to this shit, didn’t tell him he was just seeing things, just nodded and gently led him from the bathroom. “What was it?” he asked. 

 

“It was my reflection, but… it was wrong.” Mark told him, as Virgil gently guided him from the bathroom to the kitchen. There was one lone stool still standing there, and Virgil indicated with a tip of his head that Mark ought to have a seat there, and he did.

 

“Like a doppelganger?” Virgil asked. “Or something. I haven’t actually encountered a doppelganger yet.” He said, as he went over to a cupboard and grabbed a glass out of it. “Or… know anything about them, really.” he finally admitted. 

 

“I don’t know, maybe?” Mark said. “I just know it looked like me but it was off Like, it was weird.” He said. 

 

“Well.” Virgil filled the glass with a couple of ice cubes, a little water from the dispenser in the fridge, and brought it over to Mark. He leant his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, as he waited for Mark to drink. “Next time you see it, scream. I might not be able to do anything about it, but I have a camera somewhere.” He nodded like that was totally helpful.

 

“Sure. I can do that.” Mark said, as he settled a little, sipping at the water. “And… thanks for not dismissing me, right away.” He said. “It was nice to be believed..” 

 

Virgil nodded. “I’ve just seen a lot of weird shit over the years.” He said. “I have no reason to think that you didn’t see what you saw.” he said. 

 

That was for damn sure. Mark set the glass down on the counter. “Where were we, now?” He asked, trying to pick up their conversation from before he was being haunted. 

 

“Oh.” Virgil said, trying to remember what his point was before. “I was just saying. You’re not going to show for a while. I think if you’re still really early on, you have another month or so.” he said. 

 

“When did you become the expert on the topic?” Mark asked him. 

 

“Last night.” Virgil replied, tone sassy, as he tugged his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t know. I had a hard time sleeping last night, and I kept thinking about it. And I wanted to kind of figure things out without causing you to have a panic attack, so, I just looked it all up on my own I left all the tabs open if you’re curious.” 

 

“Yeah, let me see what you discovered while you were late night WebMd-ing. Count all the forms of cancer they probably think I have.” Mark said, moving to take the offered device. “Actually, would you mind if I called my mom?” Mark asked. “I kind of chucked my phone at a tree in hell.” 

 

Virgil smirked a little at Mark’s retelling of the situation, but he nodded. “Sure, go for it.” Virgil replied, tapping his fingers against the counter. “I can warm you up some of our leftovers from last night, if you want. Cersa ordered a pizza, but you kind of passed out before it got here.”

 

“I was fucking tired.” Mark nodded. “Sure.” 

 

Virgil nodded as he went to go make Mark pizza for breakfast. Which wasn’t normally a thing he would want, in the mornings, but it was fine. Cersa had pretty much told him in no uncertain terms that he was supposed be eating for himself and the baby, now. No more skipping meals just because he was being threatened or kidnapped. (Which he hadn’t figured out how he was going to manage without just sticking protein bars in his pockets, but he thought he could figure something out.) Mark glanced down at Virgil’s phone and input the number, only to have the call dropped before he could get an answer.  He tried a couple more times, before finally dropping the phone to the counter in defeat. 

 

“I’d have had better luck if I’d just kept the phone in hell.” Mark said, as Virgil slid a plate with two pizza slices in front of him. 

 

“Yeah… my phone kind of sucks.” Virgil said with a shrug. “Really only works in Los Angeles. Everywhere else it’s hit or miss.” he said. “I’m stunned to have gotten it to work for that brief period last night.”

 

Cersa shuffled into the kitchen as Mark picked up the first piece of pizza, taking a bite out of it.” She scratched a little at her short blonde hair, her gaze drifting from Mark to Virgil. “You trying to horn in on my territory, asshole?” She asked, but her voice was a little dazed. She was clearly still half asleep. 

 

“What territory?” Virgil asked. “Are you talking about Mark?” He asked. “Or just taking care of Mark?” 

 

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Cersa said, as she went to get a glass for herself. There was no power behind the statement, though, and neither man took it seriously or even paid her much attention.. 

 

“Do you have a working phone?” Mark asked Cersa, between bites of pepperoni. 

 

“About a week ago? Sure.” Cersa said. “Mine was fried when I was. Why, who you trying to call?”

 

“Eh, my mom.” Mark finally admitted. “Last time I disappeared for a week she kind of lost her mind over it, and I didn’t want to do that to her again.”

 

“Sorry.” Cersa told him. “Bet that kind of shit really hits home now, huh?”

 

“Yeah. Actually.” Mark replied, kind of absently placing a hand over his abdomen, without really thinking about what he was doing. It took him a moment to realize he was cupping the baby. He frowned after, tugging his hand away and placing it flat on the counter. 

 

“I mean, I have a landline phone you could use.” She finally said. “But I was waiting to hear from that doctor I asked to come over. He was supposed to call and give me a heads up when he was fifteen minutes out. Damien even called and I made him speed it up. He wasn’t very happy with me. But if you need...”

 

“No, that’s probably more important right now.” he said, thinking about Milo. He wanted the man better and present, and the faster the better. “I’ll just try her again later.”

 

The three of them began to go about their morning routine. Mark read the various things Virgil had searched about pregnancy on his phone. Virgil went to the bathroom himself, and Cersa began to boil water for tea. It was quiet for a bit. Then, there was a knock on the door.

 

Cersa placed a few tea cups out on the counter, before finally addressing whoever it was knocking. “Come on through, Damien.”

 

The man pushed open the door, having to step aside to make room for the wolf to enter first. He trotted inside and moved down the hallway, like he was looking specifically for Virgil. Meanwhile, Cersa slid a cup of some foul brew in Mark’s direction. He made a face at it. 

 

“I’m not a tea person.” He said, and tried to push it back. Cersa made a face at him. 

 

“Drink it anyways, it’s good for you. This one helps with the morning sickness you complained about.” Cersa said. “And if it’s been so bad you haven’t been able to hold down much of anything foodwise, then you fucking need it. So don’t argue with me.” 

 

“You poor man.” Damien said, as he approached the counter. “Are you being nursed to death by an overbearing caretaker?” 

 

“Damn near.” Mark said, as he picked up the cup and gingerly sniffed at it. There seemed to be some notes of mint in it, and for some reason,that turned his stomach almost instantly. Funny how he survived leftover pizza but a light mint tea was about to do him in. “Frick.” He cursed, practically dropping the cup back against the counter. 

 

Damien smiled as approached the counter. “Maybe this will cheer you up.” He said.

 

Mark glanced up to him, hopeful. “Did you find the staff?” he asked. 

 

“Ah.” Damien glanced off to the side and Mark knew without him saying what the answer to that question was. “No, I went back to the area we found you, I searched as much as I could. The storm could have blown it into a riverbed and swept it away in the flash flood that hit after. I believe that it’s there, it’s probably just swept up in debris, or covered with sediment. I’m going to have to get a group together to do a better sweep, but that takes time.” Damien said. “I’d have to call in a few favors. In the meantime...” Damien moved around the counter, coming over to stand next to Mark’s side.

 

With his hands he did one of those magic flourishes. Something that looked like blue dust traveled along the man’s hand, forming a ball of blue light in the palm of his hand. It spiralled for a moment, before fluttering upwards, towards the ceiling. “There.” He said, after a moment. He glanced back down to Mark. “I’ve bestowed upon your daughter a gift. She will grow in beauty and grace-”

 

Mark interrupted Damien’s speech to shoot a glare in Cersa's direction. “You told  _ him _ too?” 

 

Cersa, who had kind of disinterestedly watched the whole display until now, choked on the tea she was trying to sip on. She quickly set the cup aside, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay, he called to talk about the staff, and since he was coming back anyways, I figured he should know what's happening.” she told him. “Be prepared for the hormonal minefield he was about to walk into.” 

 

“That's why I started off with a gift.” Damien interjected, pointing a finger at the ceiling like he’d made his point. 

 

“Not a bad strategy I guess.” Mark muttered. “But why so antiquated? What, you couldn't give her something useful, like, brains? Something that'll get her into a good college?”

 

Damien gave him a an annoyed look, raising an eyebrow. “You know, most of the time when I tell parents I've gifted them something like that, the way they react is with gratitude.”

 

“Okay, but I mean. Milo and I are the parents, so the fact is she was always going to breathtakingly gorgeous.” Mark told him, tipping his chin up proudly.

 

“The fact that you and Milo are the parents are the reason why I've also gifted her with ‘patience.’” Damien told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “A wealth of patience. That child is gonna need it.” he added. He looked over just in time to see Virgil re-enter the kitchen, with Griever trotting along at his heels. He nodded in Virgil’s direction. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Virgil replied, giving him a quick nod. 

 

“Well, thanks for dropping the gender of the baby.” Cersa put in, taking Mark’s empty plate and placing it in the sink to wash. “I was gonna hide that part from him and have a big gender reveal baby shower down the line, but, fuck me and my plans I guess.” Cersa said, as she worked. Damien cleared his throat at that.

 

“First of all, with all the supernatural entities gunning for Mark right now, what on earth made you think what we need to do is throw a massive party for him? He needs to lay low right now.” Damien replied. “Very low. Until the child is born, at least.” 

 

“Oh, but I think a party would really lift his spirits, what with Milo being out of commision and all.” Cersa said. “You can be as careful as you want, but it wouldn’t hurt him to have a little fun.”

 

“Why are you being so persistent about this?” Who else have you already told?” Damien asked.

 

Cersa paused for a moment, glancing between Mark and Damien. Mark actually turned to face Cersa, because she damn well knew his feelings on the matter by now. “Well how do you know I've told anyone besides you and Virgil…” she said, shrugging one of her shoulder upward,  as she set the plate in the rack to dry. 

 

“Because I know  _ you _ .” Damien said, pointedly. “So spill it. I want to know every person who’s aware of this...”

 

Cersa pouted at having been caught. “The Nereids.” 

 

“Jesus… shit-fucking... All fifty of them?” Mark asked, moving to rub his temples, like that was really going to stave off his growing headache. “Cersa… I don’t know how many different ways I can say it. Milo doesn’t even know yet...”

 

“He knows.” Cersa told him, voice quiet as she realized his distress. “Just because he's in a coma doesn't mean he can't hear.”

 

Mark frowned little. “I get that but… he can't react. We can't talk about it. I can’t ask him his thoughts on all of this, I can’t gauge how angry or happy or anything from him about this, and I mean, I guess we’re both the dad. But not having his support throughout all of this right now is...” He made kind of a whimper, before dropping his head in his hands, leaning over the counter as he tried to just focus on breathing. His getting upset likely wasn’t going to help anything. He felt someone quietly move up behind him, placing their comforting hands on his shoulders and he knew without looking that it was Virgil.

 

After giving Mark some time to calm down, Damien spoke up again.“I'm more concerned that she told the Nereids. This isn't going to be a secret for long in that girls club.” Damien sighed. “We're going to be fending off divine intervention left and right here.” he said. 

 

“Is it really going to be that bad?” Virgil asked, as he gently kneaded Mark’s shoulders. “Nereids not good at keeping a secret?”

 

“I'd tell you exactly how bad it’s gonna be, but then I'd have to find Mark a paper bag to breathe into. I’m willing to bet most of their family and half the continental USA is aware by now, depending on how long ago she told them.” Damien replied drolly. 

 

“Couple of weeks ago.” Cersa admitted. “Right after I realized through the connection.” She said.

 

“Oh good.” Damien said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and this he directed back at Virgil. “Just be ready for anything, and we’ll discuss it later.” He gestured to Mark in particular. “Once he’s asleep or something.” 

 

Mark could feel Virgil tense up a little behind, but he didn’t say anything. Mark finally looked back up, and just looking at Virgil he could tell the man was trying not to let onto his nerves, probably actually for his benefit.

 

“You may be overreacting a  _ juuuuuuuust _ a little.” Cersa told him. “I mean, people are plenty scared of Kaz. That'll be enough to keep most demons away, just him being a threat.” she insisted. “It’ll be fine.” 

 

“Oh, right. The guy that’s about to be pissing into a straw?” Damien asked her. “That guy?” 

 

“Little harsh.” Virgil hissed at him, gently squeezing Mark’s shoulders as the man whimpered. 

 

Damien raised a hand shaking it in time with his head. “Sorry.” he said. “I just get irritated… and I don’t think. Here.” He said, turning to fully look at him and Virgil. “Look, Virg, Cersa and I need to have a really long talk.” he said. “Maybe take the keys to the car and take him somewhere?” He said, tossing said keys onto the counter. “Movie, maybe?” Damien suggested. “I’d be okay with that so long as you stay with him.” 

 

“Are they even open at this hour?” Virgil questioned, as he grabbed the keys.

 

Mark finally looked up. “Actually…” he said, voice quiet, as he was still kind of recovering from the amount of stress he was feeling. “Milo has an apartment in Scottsdale. I’d like to go there and get some of his clothes for him.” he said. Milo might be in a coma, but he hoped the gesture would help to make him more comfortable. 

 

Virgil nodded. “Okay, I can help with that.”

 

“Bring his TV.” Cersa said. “I don’t know what all you’re going to be able to fit in the car, and obviously Mark can’t help you, but maybe some of his furniture, too, just so I can have something here while I have so many guests staying over. I’ve ordered some stuff, but it’s gonna be a while, and unless you all want to sleep on the floor...” She said. “Not that I minded having Mark to cuddle up to…”

 

“I mind.” Mark said, dragging a hand down his face. 

 

“I slept on the floor last night…” Virgil added, but the way he said it was almost comical. Like everyone was going to be mad that he did. 

 

“Yeah. Actually, fuck it.” Cersa said, searching her pockets and producing her own keys. “Take the Girl Power truck. And godspeed.” She said, offering Virgil a half-assed salute.

 

Virgil returned Damien’s keys, taking Cersa’s instead. “Are you ready to go?” He asked Mark.

 

Mark nodded. He had nothing to change into, no idea where his duffel bag had ended up since the last time he was at Cersa’s house. He may as well just go in the same outfit he’d been wearing for a week now. “Just get me the hell out of here.” he said, standing up from the stool.

 

Virgil nodded and proceeded to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me Saturday after seeing Mark's Premiere countdown: So.... it's a story about a guy named Damien, in a wilderness survival situation. 
> 
> Me: *thinks it over*
> 
> Me: Did I write this? 
> 
> Where's that anime meme where the guy can't identify a butterfly, lmao. Literally me all weekend.
> 
> And for the record I know who his Damien is, I half-watched Who Killed Markiplier when I was cleaning the house once. But to me, my Damien will always be [this guy.](https://youtu.be/VK8QZrJTpoY) (Especially after he strangles Rozetta and takes off in a purple car. Low key, this car is what I imagine Damien's car looks like.) Fun Fact?: _In Touch (With Your Feminine Side)_ is my song for when Bael is stalking Mark. "It's your world but it's my street" is just the best stalker line. 
> 
> Also yeah, I really felt like this kid needed to be a girl, for a couple of reasons. For one, like my dad likes to say, raising a boy is like having a mini-you, but a daughter forces you to grow up. (And he ended up with two, so I assume he knows what he's talking about.) And for two... I have only really have one female character in this story. Cersa. I need to even things out a little bit here. 
> 
> I don't know why I write so many male characters. I think it's just because I had something on the order of 12 uncles who lived near to me growing up, so maybe that's why. It could also be why I write so much wilderness survival stuff. My dad is a vet and a low key doomsday prepper. He's not nuts about it. He's just lived through a bunch of really bad earthquakes where people have died. I was like seven or so when Northridge happened, I remember we had a fence tumble, a bunch of glass shelves shattered, and a ton of freeways toppled over the closer you got to Los Angeles. (See? Another reason for Mark to leave. Los Angeles is without a doubt going to be destroyed by a massive quake. Sooner rather than later. I have all the reasons to avoid LA.) 
> 
> So, at some point. I'm going to watch Mark's Damien, because I think that'll be fun. But I think I should go back and watch Who Killed Markiplier first, and actually pay attention this time. Lmao. 
> 
> Also for no real reason. The FC's being their actual characters in this. [Damien](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bgz4RqZH81u/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) and [Milo](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bv7z6KojKAE/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) and [Cersa](https://www.instagram.com/p/Boo8ZJ4A7kD/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)
> 
> And that's it, I'm out, I'm done rambling finally, lmao.


	9. Bad Company

The wifi at Milo’s apartment was pretty good. Best he’d had access to in a while. So while he was there, Virgil took the opportunity to download one of those pregnancy tracking apps, one with a good rating and more positive reviews than bad. It was more for his own curiosity and information, since he still didn’t want to scare Mark over anything with his questions. He wanted to be prepared, in case some kind of problem or emergency came up in Mark’s pregnancy. It would alert him to certain milestones, and gave advice on how to manage symptoms or signs of distress to look out for, and what to do about them. Then too, if Mark had any questions about anything, he’d be right there with the answers.

 

He inserted all the information he had about Mark’s pregnancy, and almost immediately, he got an alert.

 

**Four Weeks** \- Baby is the size of a Poppy Seed

 

Seeing that it worked, Virgil slid his phone back into his pants pocket and looked over to see what Mark was doing.

 

~~

 

Mark watched Virgil seem to mess around on his phone for a bit with a raised eyebrow. Finally the man slipped his phone back into his pocket, and Mark decided he’d been nosy enough.

 

Mark had set up a step ladder alongside the large tank in Milo’s living room. He grabbed the bowl of fish and shrimps he’d temporarily left on a nearby coffee table, then climbed up the ladder to dump it into the tank. With the bowl empty, he set it aside, watching as Milo’s pet sharks immediately moved to action, grabbing and eating the little chunks as they floated by. He waited for a few minutes, letting them get their fill, before trying to pet them. Serpens loved to be pet. He would often return for more, even sometimes offering his belly for Mark to stroke, but Draco was more evasive. He would allow pettings, but didn’t really seek them out. There was something just kind of calming about taking care of them, watching them swim about. Once he was done he stepped off the chair and grabbed the bowl. 

 

“That’s kind of cool. Didn’t know you could pet ‘em.” Virgil said, picking up a couple pieces of the broken down bed for their last trip to the truck. Mark smiled a bit at that, drying his hands off on his pants as he grabbed the duffel bag he’d packed for Milo. He made sure earlier to write a note for the shark’s caretaker that he’d already fed them that day, and taped it to the side of the tank where he thought he’d be able to see.

 

“Yeah, they’re very sweet.” Mark told Virgil. “It’s kind of therapeutic to watch them.” he added. 

 

“I’ll bet.” Virgil said, as he dragged the pieces of the bed down the sidewalk. It wasn’t really the best way to move it, but it was kind of awkwardly shaped, and heavy, and Mark would have helped if he could have, but Cersa made it pretty clear before they left that Mark was expected to stay away from all the heavy lifting. Which made him feel a little frustrated, truth be told. He was pregnant, apparently, but not disabled. He was pretty sure he still could have helped with some of it. But it turned out that Virgil was an ass-kicking tank who ended up doing just fine carrying the thing on his own, even if it took him a few trips. 

 

He locked up Milo’s apartment and made his way to the sidewalk with the duffel. Virgil was just trying to rearrange some of the stuff in the back of the truck to make room everything. Having nothing better to do, Mark just kind of hung out nearby, watching the man do his thing, and putting in a comment when he thought it was helpful. 

 

As he stood there, one of the men who lived at the complex (Mark recognized him from his trips here with Milo,) walked up to Mark. He tensed up a little, he could hardly help it.. After everything that had happened recently, the sad fact was that even with people he saw on the regular, his gut instinct was going to be suspicious, until proven otherwise. Fortunately he was just passing by, getting to his own apartment. He greeted Mark with a nod of his head, before glancing to Virgil struggling a bit with a piece of the bed. Mark winced a little to watch, and was thinking about getting involved, when the neighbor suddenly smacked his shoulder.

 

“Hey.” He asked. “You gonna help out your friend, or are you gonna just watch?” The guy asked. 

 

Mark looked over to him, a little surprised. He didn’t think he’d actually said more than a few words to him before then. Taken a little off-guard, Mark shook his head. Of course, he couldn’t explain to the man the real reason he wasn’t jumping in, but he was able to invent something pretty quick. “Naw, I… I wish I could.” he said. “Pulled a muscle, and my doctor said I needed to lay off the heavy lifting.” he said.

 

The guy just nodded, before looking to Mark again. “Ah.” he said, speaking like he understood. “Pussy.”

 

Mark was so stunned by the exchange that all words escaped him for a moment. The man just clapped his shoulder again, before turning around and walking away again. Mark closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. He honestly didn’t know what he was expecting, but he had kind of figured that people who didn’t get it were going to be all judgmental towards him for the next eight months or so. 

 

But in a moment, Virgil was at his side, placing a protective hand on Mark’s arm.

 

“Hey, he is not a pussy! You don’t know shit.” Virgil shouted at the other man. 

 

“Virg, it’s fine.” Mark told him, not wanting to start a fight. It did kind of make him smile though. It was kind of hilarious to see Virgil’s willingness to be his IRL white knight.

 

“No it’s not fine.” Virgil insisted. “You can’t help it. And what the fuck does that asshole know anyways?” He continued to fume.

 

Mark smiled a little, finally looking to Virgil. “Eh, I’ve been called much worse on the internet. My line of work you get used to it.” He waved it off. 

 

“Well I don’t like bullies.” Virgil said, as he began to head back to the truck. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Mark was totally fine with that idea.

 

Virgil started the truck, glancing over to make sure that Mark was settled first, before he began to pull out.    
  
“What do you do?” Virgil asked him then. Mark blinked a little at that.

 

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, leaning back a bit in his seat, kind of sizing up the other man.

 

“I mean, what do you do for work that you get called worse than that?” Virgil asked him, looking either concerned, or curious, Mark supposed. 

 

“I’m a youtuber. Play video games. Fuck up making things. You know. The uzhe.” He said, leaning back a bit in his seat.

 

“Oh.” Virgil said. Mark kind of side eyed the other man at that. Like he really had nothing to add to that?

 

“Never heard of me before we met last week?” Mark asked curiously.

 

“I only use youtube to watch the  _ Twilight Zone _ and  _ Mystery Science Theater 3000 _ .” Virgil finally admitted. “Soo… no.” he said.

 

“Always good for the ego, hearing stuff like that.” Mark laughed a little. It was kind of a relief though. Virgil having no idea who he was before meant that he wasn’t getting the celebrity dick-washing treatment, here. This was just who Virgil was. A nice guy who looked out for others. It was rare to find someone like that, especially these days.

 

Virgil looked a little embarrassed about it though. “Not to offend you or anything.” he said. 

 

“Nah, I ain’t offended.” Mark told him. 

 

It took about an hour for the two of them to get from Milo’s apartment back to Cersa’s place, and Virgil and Mark just spent most of that time just kind of talking. Mark ended up learning a little bit more about Virgil’s family. The fact that he’d lost his mom at a young age, or that he had a brother that was currently backpacking through Europe, presumably taking out vampires as he did. He learned about how his father was an asshole, and how his grandfather had enabled the assholish behavior. It made him think about Milo’s mother, honestly. He couldn’t help but note how she was Johnny on the dot when her daughter was hurt, but had yet to make an appearance even to check on Milo. 

 

When they pulled into the driveway to Cersa’s home, it seemed like the conversation Damien had to have with Cersa was effectively over. They were both standing on the front porch, speaking to each other in quiet, serious tones. Cersa drew away as Virgil parked the truck, and went to unload what they’d gathered. Mark just picked up the duffel bag with Milo’s clothes and exited the truck. 

 

Damien went to go and help Virgil, while Cersa naturally came over to Mark, with her arms folded over her chest, as she came over to take the duffel from him and swing it over her own shoulders instead. Mark wanted to protest, because again, just because he was pregnant didn’t mean he couldn’t carry a damn bag, but she didn’t really give him a chance to complain about it.

 

“The doctor came over and looked Kaz over.” She told him. Mark forgot about the duffel immediately. 

 

“What did he say?” Mark asked, as Cersa gently linked her arm with his and led him inside the house. The door to the room Milo was in was closed, he noticed, and he wondered why. Did Cersa not want him to see Milo that way? Had they had to do something to him that would disturb him in somehow?

 

“Well.” She said, shrugging a little. “He’s breathing on his own still, and that’s a good sign, but we’re going to have to keep an eye out for that.” she said. “He put him on a liquid diet for now. Gave him a catheter for his…” She made kind of a face and pointed generally at her own crotch. “You know.” She said, causing Mark to wince. “He’s still on the IV. Gave me some additional supplies for it, a few medications. We have what we need to help him, for now.” She said. “But the bottom line is…”

 

“We need to find the staff.” Mark inferred. He felt his heart sink a little at that, because he understood what the odds of Damien being able to find that thing alone were. He knew what the odds would be even if he had help.He knew that even if they had it, there wasn’t even a guarantee that it could do anything to bring Milo back, but it was the only lead they had to go on. The odds just weren’t in their favor.

 

“Yeah.” She said. 

 

“You’re probably not going to let me go and look for it either.” Mark further inferred, and Cersa snorted. 

 

“Not on your life. Never in your life. Not in your very existence. Not while you’re carrying my niece.” She told him. “And I  _ know  _ Kaz would feel the same way if he could speak up right now. So we’re just going to have to sit back and let Damien do the heavy lifting.” She said. 

 

“As usual.” Damien chimed in from the other room. 

 

She glanced over Mark’s shoulder. “I mean. Yeah. He kind of is doing the heavy lifting right now.” She shook her head. “He complains so damn much but I think it’s all just for show. He has a secret heart of gold, I’m telling you.” She said. 

 

“I’m just glad he’s on our side.” Mark shrugged a little. “Well. Sort of. I guess. Unless his boss tells him otherwise.” he realized.

 

“He does his best.” Cersa told him.

 

“He does something.” Mark shrugged a little. “What did the two of you decide about the Nereids?” He asked. 

 

“Oh. Ha ha. Well you see…” Cersa said. “We can’t not have a baby shower with them.” She said, taking Mark by the arm and tugging him to the side of the hallway. Damien was trying to sneak past the two of them with the broken down pieces of Milo’s bed. He was taking it to the library, which Mark guessed could easily be converted into another bedroom while all of them were staying there with Cersa. 

 

“You know what I always say.” Damien put in as he squeezed past them. “You get a bunch of women together, it’s either for witchery or a baby shower.” 

 

“Not true!” Cersa replied, offended. “Although considering that the majority of them are also witches… yeah there’s almost definitely going to be witchery happening.” She said as an aside to Mark.

 

“Oh good.” Mark said drily. 

 

“Can’t really be helped, because they’ll be super offended if we don’t let them all come down and shower the baby with presents and magic blessings but you know.” She shrugged. “At least they’ll be positive blessings and not curses?” She said, and the face she made told him that she really had to stretch for that last positive thought.. 

 

“So when are you going to drop yours and Milo’s gigantic amount of cousins on me?” he asked.

 

“Oh, I still have to plan it, get the food together. Entertainment. They’ll probably want to drink, so I have to plan for that too.” She shrugged. “But you don’t worry about that, that’s a purely me affair. You just get to sit there and receive the love.” She said. 

 

“I guess I can try.” Mark said. “I’ve actually met like three of them before, so, it might not be so bad.” 

 

“Ah, look at you, the expert over here.” Cersa grinned a little. “Who did you meet?” 

 

“Calypso?” Mark said, after thinking about the incident with the sea nymphs for a moment. “The other two the names escape me.”

 

“Oh, that was probably fun.” Cersa grinned a little.

 

“Well surprisingly no. No it was not.” He said. “Can I go see Milo now?” he asked.

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Cersa told him. “I actually pushed that fat cushy rocking chair up to the bed so you could sit close to him if you wanted.” She said. “Just be careful, watch where you step and don’t trip over any wires. I need to rearrange the room so that the wires are hidden, eventually, but until then, just try not to kick them or unplug them, we sort of need them.” She said. 

 

“Got it.” Mark agreed. 

 

“Okay, good.” She said. “I’m gonna go supervise the guys, make sure they don’t break anything.” She said. “Then I’ll be back with lunch.” She told him. “You’re gonna love it.” She promised him. 

 

“Mm. If you’re making it I’m not so sure.” Mark quipped, and she gave him a look of mock offense. 

 

“Mark.” She said seriously. “I am a perfect expert at making Nutella sandwiches.” She said. “But yeah, anything more complicated than that and we may have to order out.” She said. 

 

“Milo was a good cook.” Mark noted, more to himself than anything else.

 

“He still is.” Cersa assured him with a sad smile. “Don’t give up just yet.” 

 

Mark nodded softly. He knew he could never give up on Milo.

 

Mark left Cersa’s side and moved back through the house until he reached the room Milo was in and gently pushed open the door. Upon first glance, not much had changed, except for the added equipment. Mark carefully maneuvered over a large bundle of wires and approached the side where Milo didn’t have an IV attached. He gently took the man’s hand. It looked like since the doctor had been there, they’d actually changed Milo into some kind of a hospital dressing gown, one of those paper ones that were open in the back and were easy to remove. As he studied the man, Mark realized that someone had washed and braided his hair, resting the still damp braid over his shoulder.

 

Mark carefully sat on the edge of the bed, just kind of watching the steady rise and fall of Milo’s chest. He wondered for a moment if he should try what Cersa had suggested to him earlier, and just talked to him.

 

Kind of rubbing the back of Milo’s hand with his thumb, Mark took a deep breath and began to talk.

 

“Hey, babe.” Mark started out, trying not to sound as shaky as he felt. “I'm not going to tell you you need to wake up for my benefit. As selfishly as I want to say that. That you have to hold on for me.” he said. “I'm not even going to say it for the baby's sake, because I already know that she's gonna be loved. Hell, you should see the family that's already sprung up around her.” he said softly.

 

He paused for a moment, taking a shaking breath to try and steady his nerves .

 

“I fucking love you and I miss the hell out of you, though.” he said softly. “We're doing what we can to get you back.” he said. “But if at some point it gets to be too much for you… I want you to know that it's okay. Because we're going to be fine.”

 

“If you can keep fighting, that’s what I want. But I get that it’s selfish of me too. I don’t want you to feel obligated to take care of my sorry ass. So if it gets to be too much, and you have to let go…” Mark sighed a little. “Well I understand. And I love you. I always, always will.” he promised.

 

Mark wasn't exactly expecting a reaction to that. 

 

So it was something of a surprise when Milo began to squeeze Mark's hand. Just a soft movement, something he could have mistaken for the muscles contracting at first. But as the man's grip tightened, to the point of pain, Mark began to feel his heart race.

 

“Cersa!” he called. Milo had such a grip on him that Mark could feel the bones of his hand grinding together, and he tried to tug himself back, but he couldn't get the unconscious man to let go.

 

Cersa naturally came running into the room, slamming the door back against the wall. “Oh.” she said, as she quickly took in the situation. “Well shit.” she said. She leaned backwards out of the door for a second. 

 

“Damien!” she shouted. “Come here! I need your strong, manly, jar opening hands for a minute.”

 

“The hell did you do?” Mark heard Damien reply. 

 

“Just hurry!” Mark shouted in return. At this point the pain was bringing him to tears. He was positive Milo was going to inadvertently crush that hand, He knew the man’s strength all too well. He could easily destroy the bones in that hand, leave him disabled. As his brain moved into panic mode it rather unhelpfully began to supply him with all these terrifying scenarios. Cersa moved to his side just as Damien entered the room.

 

“Huh.” he said, as he approached the bed, very quickly sizing up the situation. “That was a bad idea.” he noted drily.

 

Cersa whipped her head around to give him mean look. “Just help me before he breaks his hand.” She told him, holding onto Mark’s trapped arm with one hand, and placing her other arm around his back, ready to catch him if she needed to. 

 

Damien moved in, taking Milo’s hand, and gently prying his fingers apart, loosening them just enough that Cersa was able to tug Mark back. He did end up stumbling a little in the middle of the drama, but Cersa’s arm around him kept him upright. She had him sit back down in the chair, while Damien set Milo’s arm back down on the bed. 

 

“The fuck was that about?” Damien asked. 

 

“I don’t know, but…” Mark rubbed his sore hand a little. “Does that mean he’s aware?” Mark asked. “I was just talking to him. Was he reacting to me?” He asked. He didn’t know if he sounded a little too desperate here, but he really, really wanted some kind of sign, anything from Milo. Something that told Mark he was still in there, and still fighting.

 

Cersa and Damien cast a look at each other, the briefest of glances. 

 

“It was probably just a reaction.” Cersa spoke up, after a moment. “People in a coma… sometimes the brain just randomly will trigger movement, and… people can mistake it for a reaction. Like they’re responding to some kind of external stimuli.” Cersa explained to him. “They wink, yawn, and they even do-” she gestured vaguely at Milo’s hand, “what he just did.” She said. “I know it seems like he was reacting to whatever you were talking about in here, but it probably wasn’t that.”

 

“You said he could hear me though.” Mark protested, but it was weak.

 

“He can.” Cersa assured him once again. “He can. But sometimes I think we just want to give these involuntary spasms that happen more meaning than they actually have.” She said. “I get it. I want to believe it too.” She said softly. “He’s my brother, Mark. My baby bro.” She told him. “I want him back just as badly as you do.” She said softly.

 

Mark didn’t really have a response to that, the disappointment he felt from her explanation hung heavy in the air. He glanced back to the bed. 

 

Cersa gently patted his knee. “Hey.” She said to him. “Next time, just give him two fingers to hold onto.” She said, showing him her index and middle finger together. “He can latch onto that, and his hand can’t create the pressure needed to break your hand.” She said. “That’s the secret. They tell all the nurses that in med school.” She said.

 

Mark nodded softly. 

 

“Good.” Cersa replied, realizing that Mark was probably a little too shaken for much else. “I’ll get lunch together, and bring it back here.” She said. “If you still want to stay with him.” 

 

“Yeah.” Mark said quietly, as Cersa finally stood. Even Damien seemed a little somber after the whole ordeal. He followed Cersa and Mark was left alone with Milo once again.

 

~~

 

**Twelve Weeks** \- Baby is the Size of a Lime 

 

Mark and Virgil were sitting in the waiting room of the private maternity clinic where Cersa apparently had a day job, waiting for the place to officially close so they could bring him in for his first screening. And naturally, he would be lying if he didn’t say he was a wreck. At this point he was definitely beginning to see a change in his body. There was a definitive bump forming around his waistline, that made it difficult to wear his normal clothes. But Milo had always been a little bit broader than he was, so fortunately for now, he was able to just wear his boyfriend’s clothes, the larger shirts and sweatpants. He was going to dread the day he had to actually bother to buy something larger than that. Most likely, he was just going to order something off of Amazon and be done with it. 

 

Both men glanced up when Cersa led the last patient from the back to the front desk. That in itself was a bizarre change of pace for the both of them. Cersa was wearing a pair of seasonal scrubs, with the top piece covered in spring flowers and the pants colored a plain white. Her hair had grown out quite a bit since the attack, enough for her to pin it up with a small clip. She spoke in soft, reasonable inside voice tones to the woman, as she marked down the date of her next appointment on an blue reminder card and handed it to her. The look, the way she behaved, it was all so gentle and completely different from the loud mouth he’d come to know. Mark knew that unlike Milo, Cersa had an adult job that earned her an adult wage. Well, it wasn’t that Milo never worked, if he were being honest. He apparently made occasional appearances at a university in San Diego’s oceanography department, but Mark wasn’t sure what all that entailed, and Milo never seemed all that interested in divulging what he actually did.. Mostly it seemed like Milo just had wealth that he’d apparently accumulated over centuries, and a lot of it was in land ownership in the United States and Europe. Whatever that all involved, it left him with a lot of free time with which to harass Mark. 

 

Well. Mark could be cynical and act like Milo was harassing him all he wanted. And while it was nice that Virgil, who was kind of turning into his bodyguard anyways, had decided to come along for the appointment. But he honestly wished it could have been Milo sitting beside him. It really, really should have been Milo sitting there with him, holding his hand, walking him through this. Instead he just kind of felt a little bit empty, without having the other man there. 

 

Once the last patient left, Cersa stood up from the front desk and went over to lock the front door. She peeked through the glass panel, and Mark wasn’t sure why, but he assumed it had to do with him. She was clearly checking to make sure the lot was actually empty, and he and Virgil weren’t followed on their way over. When she was done, she turned off the lights by the entrance, signalling that they were closed for the day, and finally approached Mark and Virgil.

 

“Let me get you started in the back room.” She said to him. “You’re gonna love the doctor here. He’s a friend of mine. Good with his patients, and doesn’t mind looking at my ‘special’ cases.” 

 

“So… he’s done this with you before?” Mark questioned, taking the hand that Cersa offered him, and letting her pull him up off of the couch. He was probably still safely in the phase of pregnancy where he could have handled the simple task of  _ fucking standing _ without help, but he was already beginning to resign himself to the overprotectiveness this little family (of sorts) was showing him. The only one who seemed to get it and gave him any kind of space at all was Damien, but Damien was hardly ever around, these days. Most of his time was being spent scouring the desert with a few select friends, trying to find the staff that put Milo into the coma in the first place.

 

“Yeah, he gets me. What I am. What I do. What I’ve done for centuries.” She told him. “And I mean technically, I can keep track of the baby through the connection. I can tell that she’s healthy. But I still like to make sure my patients go through the whole scientific side too, just to be safe. Just in case I miss something, you know? We all have off-days. He helps me to figure it out.” She said. “And since he knows you’re kind of a wanted entity in our world right now, it was his idea to schedule this appointment after our normal hours which was just sweet as cream of him.” 

 

Mark nodded, as Virgil got up from his seat and followed along behind Mark and Cersa. 

 

“Got it.” Mark said, as she led him into a clean room. “So are the two of you a thing?” he wondered. Because the way she spoke of this doctor was just so glowing, that he kind of wondered if maybe the woman was nursing a crush. Cersa immediately gave him a knowing look. 

 

“Don’t you say a damn word to McDreamy.” She told him. “Because he don’t even know how mine he is yet.” Cersa paused, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear.

 

“Ah, so you’re still working the angle, huh?” Mark asked with a grin. 

 

“Shut up and let me stab your finger.” Cersa said, as she turned her back to grab whatever torture device she needed for this. 

 

“Which finger?” Mark asked, as he sat down in the chair that he assumed was meant to be for the doctor. It had wheels, and it was nicely padded. That was his justification. Virgil grabbed the crappy immobile chair Mark assumed was for the dads to be.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Cersa said absently, as she searched a nearby drawer.

 

Mark shot her the bird. Virgil nearly gave the game away by snickering behind him.

 

As soon as Cersa turned around, she gave a disappointed sigh. “I walked right into that one.” Undeterred, she come over to grab the finger in question. She quickly cleaned the skin over the meat of his finger with an alcohol pad, then stabbed him with something that looked weirdly to him like a pencil sharpener. It ejected a tiny flat blade that was able to quickly gather a droplet of his blood, which Cersa deposited onto a little card.

 

“Shit, you fucking savage.” Mark complained, pulling his finger back like she’d bitten him.

 

“Oh, fuck off, you’re fine.” She told him. “That’s not even the extent of all the blood I need from you.” 

 

“What are you gonna do with it, sell my plasma?” Mark asked cradling the sore digit with his other hand. “You could probably fetch a good price for it on eBay.” 

 

“I might one day, but not today.” Cersa told him, as she ran the card with Mark’s blood on it through a tiny machine. Once the card ejected she took it and began scribbling down her findings on her clipboard.

 

“What are you getting from that?” Mark asked her. 

 

“Oh. It just says you’re a little anemic.” Cersa told him. “Which doesn’t entirely surprise me, since you’ve probably had the worst case of morning sickness I’ve ever seen in a patient. Side-effect of carrying a demi-goddess, I guess.” She shrugged a little. “The doctor will probably just put you on an iron supplement. Which is awesome, because those also cause nausea with alarming frequency.”

 

“So how is that going to help him?” Virgil asked. 

 

“Well, we’ll just put him on one of those ones that release slowly. Those tend to do a little better.” She said. 

 

Cersa continued to run through the exam with him, taking his vitals and marking them down. It was interesting to Mark to see the little things that were different between now and his last check up. His blood pressure had gone down, while his temperature actually spiked. But apparently, that was just something that happened sometimes, when one became pregnant, Cersa assured him, and it didn’t actually signify that anything was wrong. After collecting even more blood, (which left Mark feeling kind of crabby, if he were being honest) Cersa finally grabbed him a dressing gown and offered it to him. “You don’t have to get completely nakie, unless you freak that way, I don’t judge.” She told him. “Just down to your pants is fine. While you’re doing that I’m gonna run and get the doctor.” She said. 

 

“Do you want me to step out?” Virgil asked.    
  


“Naw, it’s fine, I don’t mind you looking at my glorious pecs. Take a gander before pregnancy destroys it.” Mark told him as he slid off the counter.

 

Virgil smirked a little. “You know my grandmother used to say every pound you get after 30 during a pregnancy, you get to keep, so.” He said. “This really might be my last chance.” 

 

“Shit, you really think I’m gonna get that big?” Mark asked him, suddenly looking concerned. Not that he wasn’t confident that he couldn’t be one of those bad ass post-birth moms that work out until they get back to the pre-child bods they were sporting. It was just, that was a lot of extra weight to be carrying around for eight months. Not for the first time he was impressed at the hell women put their bodies through to continue the species, and he worried about his own ability to do the same.

 

“I don’t know. I’m still kind of lost on how this is all going to work, since you’re a guy, and it confuses the app a little too.” Virgil said. 

 

Mark blinked at that. “You downloaded an app?” 

 

“To track your progress, yeah.” Virgil said. 

 

“Oh.” Mark replied. He had known that Virgil had been curious about the whole process, but he wasn’t sure at first what to think of that. On the other hand, if he had a lot of questions about the this, then yeah, downloading an app probably was a good way to start learning. “What does it say?” He asked. 

 

“Well your baby should have reflexes by now. She should be able to curl her fingers and toes.” Virgil said. “She should be able to excrete urine soon too.” 

 

Mark tipped his head to the side, as he considered that fun bit of trivia. “Wait, does that mean the baby just…. Pees in there?” he asked.

 

“I mean, I guess. It has to go somewhere, right?” Virgil shrugged. “I think they mean she just gets that ability, though, I don’t think they’re supposed to be going until after they’re born, but I don’t actually know.” He admitted. “I’m not an expert.” 

 

“Well if she pees in there she’s grounded.” Mark decided.

 

“How do you guys get so fucking weird everytime I leave?” Cersa asked as she returned, with the doctor in tow.

 

“Wait shit!” Mark said,because he had just been standing there shirtless the entire time he and Virgil were talking. “Aren’t you supposed to knock before you just barge into a patient room?” Mark demanded, quickly tugging the dressing gown on. He couldn’t reach to tie it in the back fast enough, and he realized, after struggling with it for a moment that it was pointless to try, because he was going to be lying down. He didn’t even know where that whole bout of modesty had come from anyways, the entirety of the internet had already seen more of him than this.

 

Cersa gave him a knowing smirk “For regular patients, I do the whole act. You guys are special.” She said. “Mark, Virg? Please meet my boss, Dr. Storm.” 

 

“You have a very unfortunate name doctor.” Mark replied, as the man entered with the clipboard. He gave Mark a confused look, before looking over to Cersa, who just shrugged in return. 

 

“Okay then.” Dr. Storm seemed to shrug it off as he glanced over to Virgil, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you the daddy?” He asked.

 

Virgil blinked, before finally shaking his head. “I… no… I’m the…” 

 

“Emotional support.” Mark supplied. 

 

“Yeah we have him in lieu of a chihuahua.” Cersa said with a nod. Virgil made a face at that, but he apparently had nothing else to add. “The daddy’s actually my brother, the guy I had you work on?” She reminded. 

 

“Oh, right.” The doctor said. “Well you can have a seat over there, where you can see, and Mark?” He said. “I actually need you to get up on the examination table.” He said. 

 

“I know you secretly just want your seat back.” Mark replied, but he got up obligingly.

 

“Ya caught me.” Dr. Storm deadpanned, as Mark managed to get up from the chair and layback on the examination table without too much effort. “So I gather I don’t really need to explain how this goes, the kid over here looks like he’s already on top of everything.” Dr. Storm said, as he pulled on a pair of gloves. 

 

Virgil flushed a little. “I mean yeah we did kind of talk about it in the car.” He admitted

 

“I knew it.” Dr. Storm replied. “I know the look of an overachiever.” He said, as he went to turn on some of the equipment.

 

“Why is everyone ragging on me?” Virgil asked, as he pulled the chair a little bit closer, so he could watch the monitor too. 

 

“I’m not ragging on you.” Mark told him helpfully, feeling his nerves hitch a little as the equipment came to life with a loud, buzzing hum. So he did what he always did when he was nervous, and continued to talk nonsensically. “In fact if I wasn’t taken I’d probably date the shit out of you. Take you to a nice dinner, see a movie, and if we  _ really _ wanted to get naughty, I’d kiss you goodnight before dropping you off at your house...” 

 

“That’s a ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard it.” Dr. Storm said.

 

He turned down the lights, grabbing and pushing up the rolling table with his laptop on it. He opened it up, scrolling through a couple windows before pulling up the application he needed. “Okay.” The doctor said after a moment. “So, the gel we’re gonna use for this, Cersa’s already heated up. I’m gonna squirt some of it out directly onto your stomach, and use this little device…” he said, picking up the scanner and showing it to Mark. “To check on your kiddo.” He said. “We’re not really looking for the gender or anything…”

 

“We kind of already have an idea.” Cersa interrupted.

 

Dr. Storm gave her a look. “You even need me?” he asked her.

 

She raised her hands in defeat. “My bad, as you were.” She said. 

 

Dr. Storm hummed a little, grabbing the squirt bottle with the gel. He gently reached up under the dressing gown, trying to give Mark a little privacy, as he squirted out what felt like a hell of a lot of gel on his lower abdomen. It was actually pretty damn warm, almost bordering on hot. It felt strange, though, especially when the doctor took a hold of the little scanner and began to move it over his stomach. It felt like he was just pushing the gel around without purpose, but Mark had to figure that the guy knew what he was looking for. 

 

After a couple of minutes, the doctor turned slightly from his laptop to look at Mark. “Okay. Babe’s looking good.” he said. “We’ve got all the limbs present. Heartbeat was detected, it’s going at exactly the pace it should be.” he said. He placed an arm over the back of the monitor, peering over it to look at Mark. “You want to see?” He asked. 

 

“You think I’m gonna say no?” Mark asked, growing excited as his nerves from before melted away at the prospect. “Yes, let me see the baby.” He said. 

 

Mark could feel as both Virgil and Cersa moved around to the other side of the table, kind of peering over him at the monitor as the doctor turned it around. 

 

“Oh hell.” Mark whispered, as he got his first look at his baby. He almost couldn’t control the grin that crossed his face as he reached out, touching the tiny little head he spotted on the monitor. It almost all became more real then. Until that moment he was just gaining a bunch of weight and wearing Milo’s pants. Now it was like he could see the purpose behind it. “She’s beautiful.” he said.

 

“Yeah.” Virgil agreed. Mark could tell by the tone of his voice that he was just as enraptured as he was.

 

“You guys can’t even see much of anything yet.” Cersa pointed out with a laugh.

 

“Oh, come on, Cersa.” Dr. Storm hushed her gently. “They’re new parents, let them enjoy it.” 

 

“Is she moving?” Mark asked. He had thought he saw her move an arm, but he couldn’t tell if that was just him, or the motion of the scanner.

 

“Yeah.” the doctor said. “You can kind of tell. When I press too hard it bothers her and she reacts to it.” he said.

 

“Well don’t annoy her, geez.” Mark said with a laugh. “Her first interaction with humanity and it’s annoyance. That’s a bad precedent to set.” 

 

The doctor chuckled a little. “Well she’s gonna have a lifetime of that to deal with, she may as well start learning now.” he said. “I got a couple of pics for you… Do you need more time?” He asked. 

 

Mark watched the baby for a minute or so more. He knew it was a grainy image, black and white, without much detail, but goddamn, that was his kid. His and Milo’s. He knew it was probably a tired song to everyone in the room by now but… he just really wanted Milo to be there. To be sharing these moments with him. Having them with Virgil and yes, he supposed, even with Cersa was nice. But it was the moments like this that he was supposed to be sharing with the man that he loved and he just… wasn’t there.

 

Mark finally dropped his hand, feeling a little out of sorts now. “Yeah… I’m good.” he said. 

 

Dr. Storm moved to close out the application. His daughter’s image on the screen disappeared, and just like that, the appointment was over.

 

~~

 

When Mark and Virgil reached Cersa’s house again, Damien was standing at the kitchen table, a couple of maps spread out in front of him. Griever, who had been resting on the couch in the living room, looked over to the two of them with excitement, his tail wagging in greeting. He was excited in particular to see Virgil, who bent down to greet wolf as it hopped off the couch to come and see him. Mark walked past the two of them to see what Damien was looking at.

 

“Back from your latest expedition?” He asked, peering around the man’s shoulder.

 

Damien made a noise of agreement that kind of sounded like he was grumbling. “No closer to finding that damn thing. Even with help.” Damien noted. “Girl that’s helping me suggested we start shading in the areas we’ve already searched.” he said. “So we’re not backtracking over the same territory.” 

 

Mark nodded softly, seeing the various different shades marking the landscape. He noted that in the corner of the map, that they’d created a tiny legend. They’d listed the dates beside the color, indicating when that area had been searched. Mark figured that was a smart idea. 

 

“I appreciate you doing this for Milo.” He said to Damien.

 

“Well.” Damien shrugged. “Kasmilos is my friend, for now, at any rate. I have damn few of those left in the world.” he noted. 

 

Mark nodded, shrugging off the oversize jacket he’d been wearing and headed off to Milo’s room.

 

He didn’t have to look at the monitors or view the readouts to see that there’d been no substantial change in the man. That was the way it had been for the past couple of months, now. Mark still spent a lot of time in the room. Talking to the man, reading his own books to him. He was holding out for some kind of miracle. Maybe Damien getting a hold of that staff. Maybe Cersa making some kind of breakthrough with her spellwork. In the meantime, Mark was just trying to take care of the man in the only ways he knew how.

 

“She’s doing great, Milo.” Mark said softly, as he pulled the sonogram keepsake from one of his pockets. Using one of Cersa’s longer hair clips, he attached the picture to the headboard, slightly above Milo’s face, so that it would be the first thing he’d see. “If you wake up, you’ll be able to see for yourself.” he said, like he was bribing the other man.

 

He placed a hand over Milo’s shoulder, rubbing it gently, as he turned to leave the room once more.

 

~~

 

Outside, the hall seemed to have gotten much longer. The lights had dimmed considerably but somehow, Mark could still see. There was a conversation happening in the distance, but he couldn’t quite make it out. 

 

Behind one of those closed doors he could make out a scratching sound, like some creature was clawing insistently at the wood, trying to get out. 

 

Mark paused by the door, trying the handle, but it refused to turn. He leaned in close, pressing his shoulder and ear to the door. The scratching continued. He listened for a short while, his face drawn into a serious frown.

 

“Leave me alone.” Mark said after a moment. “I don’t want that.” 

 

He gently released the handle and moved away from the door, seeking out the others. Once the hall was empty, the lights began to flicker, before coming back on, as though nothing had happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not about to sit here and methodically write out every milestone for this pregnancy, lmao, I am far too lazy. So I made a list of the various things I wanted to see happen during it, and I think the next few chapters are going to be like this. Passage of time things. 
> 
> Only thing about this chapter that I wanted to touch on super quick. Because I fear it might seem so abrupt. Mark in that first part telling Milo it was okay to go if he needed. This is probably a continuation of a dilemma I briefly touched on when I wrote [Not My Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/625327/chapters/1129089) a few years ago. At the time I was writing that fic, I was dealing with my uncle's passing. What happened was he'd been going through a lot of various health issues, and while the doctors were treating him, something that they did triggered my uncle to have a stroke and he went into a coma. I spent a week in complete denial about it, telling people he wasn't allowed to die. I assumed he was getting better because he was doing things like, yawning, squeezing people's hands, smiling, winking. And the silly thing about that was, I had been through a lot of medical classes. I _knew_ that didn't mean anything. I know I knew it then, but grief is weird. I made myself believe that he was going to be okay. So later that week when he finally did die it was like getting hit by a ton of bricks. And I still kick myself to this day over it. Because I'd been so confident he was coming home, I didn't go to see him in the hospital. I went to work, I went to a movie. And the guilt that I felt over the whole thing I never quite got over.
> 
> So the thing that's often on my mind is when is it appropriate to let go?
> 
> Even before my uncle died it was a conversation I used to have with my mom. Because she'd seen so many people cling to their dying family and put them through all of these procedures that she knew wasn't going to prolong their life any. And she always called it torture. Like why can't they just let their family go with dignity? And in general I agreed with that, until I had such a difficult time letting go. 
> 
> So yeah. At this point in the story, it's still kind of early on this thing. But Mark knows the odds. He's well aware of what a long shot this is turning out to be. So I think with that information, his reaction in this is an appropriate one to have.
> 
> Look, some people go to therapy to deal with their mental illnesses, I bottle mine up until I can't anymore and then unleash them on my favorite characters. 
> 
> Shit that was depressing. Wanna see what I spent the entire day laughing about? Did anyone see that suit pic Mark posted on Insta? Well check out these fucking rent-a-grooms: [Kneel before my power couple](https://ibb.co/3CNQDFR)
> 
> These fucking dorks I swear to god this wedding gonna be lit ya'll


	10. Here Comes the Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter wasn't meant to be the chapter of Damien and Mark bonding but... this is the chapter of Damien and Mark bonding, lmao. I had to reorder my timeline a little bit for purposes that may or may not become clear. I do kind of like them establishing this relationship now, because this will help things out with events later on. I'm just gonna say. Mark... needs to really trust this guy. And thus far he really has no reason to. But with certain things on the line.... he's really gonna need to.
> 
> I may get a little bit more into his character in the bottom notes, you might have noticed that's where I really let loose, lol. I figure it's safer to do it there, if people want to skip the shit I have to talk about. (Which I must assume is everyone, haha.) 
> 
> Also I have thoughts about Mark's Damien too... because... of course I do. Lmao.

**Fifteen Weeks** \- Baby is the Size of an Apple

 

Mark wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep in the chair next to Milo’s bed, but when he woke up someone had taken the crochet blanket from the couch and draped it over his shoulders. It had actually been kind of a cold summer. Which was nice, because he was stuck in the middle of Arizona pregnant while it happened, and Cersa’s air conditioner was a little bit shaky. 

 

He checked his watch and decided he needed to get something to eat. Cersa had been on him about it, and the thing that eventually settled her down about it was that he’d put himself on a schedule. He wasn’t always exactly on time, but as long as he got something around then she was happy. He slid the blanket off of his shoulders and let it hang off of the chair, figuring he’d want it later when he came back. He picked up the book he’d been reading to Milo, (and by extension, the baby,) and made sure to mark the place he’d left off before he fell asleep. It was something out of Milo’s collection;  _ Everything is Going to Kill Everbody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead. _ Which honestly, being in the state he was in, he expected to give him a little more anxiety than it did. He found it kind of interesting though, even though he thought the author was being a little dramatic with some of these scenarios. He set the bookmark under the section titled  _ Other Examples of the American Tendency to Add Superlatives to Existing Terms Rather Than Create New Titles for Epic Disasters _ and set the book over on the nightstand. He leant over the bed and pressed a kiss to Milo’s forehead, brushing aside his rather longish bangs, before gingerly pushing up and heading towards the kitchen. 

 

At some point during their stay at Cersa’s, Virgil decided to step in and try his hand at cooking. Since it probably wasn’t a good idea to always be ordering out, which wasn’t healthy for any of them, but probably especially not Mark, considering his current state. So he’d googled a couple of recipes, and made a huge amount of food that Mark and Cersa were still kind of picking through, and to his credit, it was pretty good. He’d made from scratch the best applesauce Mark had ever had, and that wasn’t even something he typically craved. It had to be warm though, but it reheated pretty nicely in the microwave. Virgil had had to remake it a couple of times just because of Mark, and he supposed if that was going to be his pregnancy craving, well, there were probably worse things he could be looking for.

 

So he grabbed some of that and warmed it up in a mug, then went about making himself a sandwich. It was around that time that Mark realized. Since he’d woken up he hadn’t run into a single other person. Cersa was working, but Virgil was usually hanging around, unless he’d found himself a job. Damien should have been there, too, actually, because he was between trips right now.

 

He wasn’t exactly panicked at being alone in the house, it wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself. He was just kind of surprised, since the three of them had been so adamant about not leaving him alone, due to the risk of eventual attack from supernatural forces. 

 

He continued to eat his lunch, getting down the sandwich and fishing the warmed applesauce out of the microwave, when Mark realized he’d heard something. Almost like a thwacking sound, someone throwing something at a plank of wood. Curious, he sipped at the applesauce like it was a drink, and followed the sound outside. 

 

It didn’t take him long to see that he wasn’t alone at all. 

 

Damien had set up kind of a range in Cersa’s backyard. On the side of the pool there was a big piece of plywood he’d balanced in the arms of a large cactus. Taped to the plywood was a blown up picture, Mark realized eventually, of Johnny Depp, and since there were already thin markings marring the black and white photo, Mark figured they’d already been at this for a while.

 

Virgil was holding a set of six knives in his hand, and Damien stood some distance behind him, in what Mark considered was probably the “safe zone” for their practice. Virgil drew up the knives, moved into what looked like a starting stance for what he was about to do, took one of the knives and threw it at the board. The knife rotated rapidly, striking the the piece of plywood on its side, and flying into the dirt, sending up a spray of gravel. He tried it again, only to have the same thing happen. 

 

“You know.” Damien drawled. “If you didn’t do that limp-wristed thing and just kept it straight, you might actually be able to land that shot.” 

 

Virgil shot him a look over his shoulder. “I feel like there’s a joke that could be made there.”

 

“Feels like a lazy joke though. So firm it up, Sheila.” Damien replied, as he moved in to help. Mark watched quietly as Damien took a hold of Virgil’s wrist. “Don’t act like you’re flicking it. Just let the knife fly out of your hand.”

 

“Okay.” Virgil replied quietly. It took Virgil a couple more tries but eventually he got it. One knife finally stuck in the plywood, to the right of Johnny Depp’s shoulder. 

 

“Good shot.” Mark said, finally getting the attention of the two men. 

 

Damien shrugged, glancing back to Mark. “It was alright.” He relented, watching as Virgil went to gather the knives. 

 

“I mean, that’s pretty good for a beginner.” Mark said. “How long as he been practicing?” 

 

“Just for…” Virgil thought it over. “Took us a half-hour or so to set up the range…. I guess about forty minutes now?” 

 

“Then I’d say that’s pretty good.” Mark replied, looking back to Damien. “You ought to encourage him. Virgil’s already a badass, once he gets this he’ll probably be unstoppable.” 

 

“He’s doing alright.” Damien relented. “But he’s still got a lot to learn.”

 

“He’s getting there. Let’s see you do it.” Mark challenged.

 

Damien smirked pretty heavily at that. There was a glint in his eye that almost promised that Mark was going to regret saying that. He almost relished any chance he got to show off. “Come closer boy.” he gently beckoned Mark forward with his index finger.

 

“Shit, forget I said any…” 

 

“Mark.” Damien said, and his voice was hard, allowing no room for disobedience. “You stand over here right now.” he said, pointing to the spot directly beside him. 

 

Partially out of curiosity, and partially because, one just did not argue with that tone, Mark set his empty mug down on a weather cracked pool chair and moved in close to Damien.

 

Damien sized Mark up for a moment, holding out his hand to the side for the set of knives. Virgil placed the set in his hands, handles set in the palm of Damien’s hand, and without looking, he turned back to the board. “Watch and learn.”

 

Without any hesitation, Damien expertly let the knives fly. One by one he sunk them deep into the plywood, in a nearly straight line, from the top of Johnny Depp’s head to his chin. And Damien just kept going. From seemingly nowhere Damien produced another set of knives, and he let those go as well, building out his line from there. He was landing so many of them that he ended up knocking out some of the knives that had already sunk into the board. When he was done Damien turned back to Mark with a flourish, bowing slightly at the waist. “Ta-dah.” 

 

“Shit.” Mark replied, as he looked at the board, that was now sporting a ton of knives. “First of all, what did Johnny Depp ever do to deserve that, and second, where the hell were you keeping all of those?” 

 

Damien grinned widely at him. Somehow, after all of that, he already had a knife back in his hand. He had the sharpened end of it pressed against the pad of his index finger, and he was rotating it a little, almost absently. “Johnny Depp knows what he did.” Damien replied. “You don’t need to know where I keep my knives, just know that at any given point in time, I have a variety of them on me. Helpful information for your everyday existence.” He said.

 

Virgil spoke up. “It’s kind of fun, actually.” he said. 

 

“I mean yeah, I can imagine.” Mark replied. 

 

“Try it.” Damien challenged him. 

 

Virgil blinked a little at that. Mark thought it looked like the poor man’s brain just did a hard reset. Like he was about to protest, and Mark could just about hear the argument forming in his head already.  _ But Damien, should he really be doing that in his condition _ .... Like he was dying or something.

 

That more than anything is what made Mark reach out and snatch the knife from Damien. Say what you wanted about the old man, that he was a nasty, blood-thirsty old cur, and it was likely true. But not once, never had he ever made Mark feel like he was weaker or incapable just because he was pregnant. 

 

He felt Damien’s hands on his shoulders as he turned him towards the target, bracing him with his right side slightly tipped forward. He used his feet, felt those pointed boots slide his feet into the  correct position. 

 

“Like that.” Damien said, and Mark could feel the man’s breath hot and heavy against the back of his neck. “With your right foot slightly in front of your left.” He said. Damien released his shoulders then, moving to grab Mark’s wrist. “You’re going to hold it by the blade.” he said, taking the knife from him and offering it to him again, making sure that Mark gripped it correctly. “You generally want to be about six feet away from your target. Like so.” Damien told him. “When you release the blade, keep your wrist straight like this, and resist the urge to flick the knife. Just kind of let it go. Also, keep in mind that you’re not tossing this thing as hard as you can. Too hard and it may not land it. It’s like sex, you know.” Damien said, causing Mark to turn his head and look directly at the other man. “You want to fuck Kasmilos gently, right? Toss the blade like you’ve got him all worked up, and bring him in for the orgasm. Seal the deal.” Damien said, taking a step back to give him room to throw.

 

“I…” Mark said, temporarily speechless. He shook his head, rolled his shoulders, and moved back into the position Damien put him in. “Alright. Fucking him gently.” Mark replied. 

 

The first throw Mark sent sailing over the board, landing on the concrete and skidding over it a couple of feet away.

 

“Gently!” Damien scolded. “You’re fucking him way too hard, he’s gonna lose his boner.” 

 

“I- don’t get- how- THAT is supposed to be helpful!” Mark called back. Virgil helpfully handed him a knife for his next attempt.

 

“Get the visual in your head. You fuck him gently. You toss that knife the same way. Do it.” Damien insisted.

 

Mark sighed, moving back into position to try it again. This time, he managed to hit the board, but the knife hit at a weird angle and instead of sinking in, it bounced off and shot to the side. 

 

“Get a little closer. Try that.” Damien advised.

 

“Closer?” Virgil asked incredulously. 

 

“Yeah, it’s fine. He’s fine. Just an inch or two.” Damien said.

 

“No weird sex analogy for that one?” Mark asked him.

 

“Like your dick size.” Damien answered, raising his hand up to show them a tiny space between his index and thumb. “Just an inch or two.”

 

“Fuck you dude.” Mark replied, though he couldn’t help snickering at the fast turn around. “Now I’m imagining your face on the board.” 

 

That time when Mark tossed the knife he landed it. It was a few inches to the side of Johnny Depp’s head, but he managed to sink the knife in, and that’s what counted to him.

 

Damien smirked. “Ah, there you go. Helps when you have a villain to motivate you, huh?” 

 

Mark shrugged, but he realized that Damien was probably right. He did hit the target after that.

 

Mark and Virgil took turns at the board for a while, with Damien supervising while they did. All things considered, it ended up being a fairly pleasant afternoon, until Mark accidentally hit the board at a weird angle. This time instead of deflecting off to the side it bounced back in his direction, nearly hitting him in the knee, if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in and caused him to move back in time. Virgil gasped hard behind him, realizing what had nearly happened.

 

But that was nothing compared to Cersa’s  _ scream _ .

 

“Mark!” She shouted, running towards him, actual fear in her eyes as she came up and grabbed his arm. She was still in her uniform, clearly having just rolled up on this scene after her shift at the clinic. “Are you okay?”

 

“Cersa, it’s fine…” Mark trailed off as she checked him over. Seeming satisfied that he really wasn’t hurt, she turned on Damien.

 

“What in the fuck were you thinking?” She demanded. 

 

Damien gestured vaguely in Mark’s direction. “I was thinking I could teach him a new means of defending himself.” He said. “I was already working with Virgil, and Mark seemed curious…”

 

“Okay, Mark is pregnant.” Cersa said, jabbing a finger into Damien’s chest. “I normally don’t care about you guys getting all machismo with your dick measuring contests and whatever, but if Mark had been hit by that it could have hurt him, or the baby…” 

 

“Mark is pregnant not disabled, and further, he’s an adult.” Damien argued. “I trust him to know what his body can and cannot handle, and so should you.” 

 

“I don’t understand what you’re not getting here.” Cersa continued. “Even if he’d just been scratched by one of the blades, that could leave it open to infection, and it could make him sick but it could kill the baby…”

 

“There is such a low chance of that happening, Cersa.” Damien shook his head. “You have to let him live his life, he’s not an idiot.” He paused. “Okay he’s kind of an idiot, but he’s a capable idiot.” 

 

“Fuck. You. Damien.” Cersa said, punctuating each word with another jab of her finger into Damien’s chest. “I am NOT losing another one of my brother’s kids just because you want to be all macho.” She fumed. She turned back to Mark, still gripping his arm. “Come on, you’re going back in the house. “

 

“Cersa, it’s not… I’m fine, honestly, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.” Mark protested, as Cersa began to tug him back into the house. 

 

“Not a word. I’m mad at you too.” Cersa told him, as she let go of him just long enough to slam the back door behind her. She glanced out of the side window for a moment, seeming to check on what Damien and Virgil were doing after all of that, before she pulled the curtain closed too.

 

Despite all of his own frustrations, Mark couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. He realized then that when it all came down to it, she was just doing this out of concern. It wasn’t that he was weak or incapable, it was probably never that. She was just trying to look out for her brother’s kid.

 

“Cersa.” Mark said softly. “That whole…. Thing with Milo’s first kid. That wasn’t on you.” He said, tone quiet.

 

Cersa shook her head a little. “I know.” She told him, airily. “I know.” She said again. “But if I had been there, that kid would still be alive.” She said, seeming very assured. She turned fully around then, placing her hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Look, go sit down. Relax a bit. I’ve gotta change and then… we’ll figure something out.” She told him with a smile. 

 

Mark nodded, moving down the hall, intending to just go have a seat in the living room, but he paused when he heard the back door open. Damien was standing in the doorway. He didn’t look angry or anything that Mark could tell, but the man had a tendency to make himself unreadable.

 

Cersa chewed her lip , before looking to the other man. “Hey, I’m… I’m sorry I chewed you out.” She said after a moment’s contemplation. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

 

Damien just nodded softly, as he brushed past them to go into the library.

 

~~

 

**Twenty-One Weeks** \- Baby is the Size of a Carrot

 

“Well, Mark is obviously cheating.” Damien said, flicking a yellow Uno card in his direction. 

 

Mark smirked a little, as he watched the card flutter harmlessly to the ground. “How do you figure?” He asked. 

 

“You have a whole fucking team there.” Damien pointed out. 

 

Mark took a minute to observe the position he’d just kind of ended up in. He was sitting against the headboard, with Milo’s head resting against his hip. He had his legs crossed in front of him at the ankle, and he was laid back slightly, hands resting against his stomach while the group was between rounds. He supposed if you counted Milo and the baby, then yeah, he did kind of have a team there.

 

“Should have made an offer to the Uno gods, like I told you, before we even started.” Cersa scolded Damien. “Now they are displeased with you.” 

 

“I made an offering.” Virgil replied. “I left a rice krispie treat on the counter in the bathroom.”

 

“And he’s won three rounds.” Cersa pointed out. “I left them an apple.” 

 

“Yeah, and you haven’t won any.” Damien pointed out to Cersa. “There’s no such thing as Uno gods.” Damien shook his head. “Just fucking cheaters with three people conspiring solely against me.” He said, pointing at Mark again. 

 

“You’re right, Damien. My comatose boyfriend and unborn child have been secretly advising me this entire time.” Mark said, pressing one of his hands a little bit lower on his stomach. He’d been trying off and on to get the baby to play with him, but he didn’t think she quite understood the concept yet. Ever since he first noticed her moving a couple of weeks back it was like she’d just decided that movement was great and she was going to do it forever. Which he thought he could get behind, normally. Until she spent the entirety of the night before tap dancing on his bladder. So now he was just trying to rile her up a bunch in the hopes that he could tire her out before bed and maybe he could actually sleep through the night. 

 

“At least you admitted it.” Damien mumbled, as he tossed the rest of his cards down on the little used pile they’d made between Milo’s legs. 

 

“Are we going another round?” Virgil asked, as he absently shuffled his hand.

 

Mark waited a moment, until he felt the tiniest little tap against his palm, before speaking up. “I think… actually… gotta pee.” He admitted, as he moved to sit up, letting his legs slide down from the bed.

 

“Well we’ll do one while he’s in there.” Cersa said, as she tossed her cards down on top of Damien’s. “Then we’ll find something more family friendly to play. Like monopoly.” 

 

Cersa stood to take Mark’s hands and gently pulled him to his feet. “See you in a bit.” She told him, moving to gently kiss his cheek before he could shuffle his way out of there. There was a little bathroom in the guest bedroom, but lately he just preferred the one in the hallway. He felt like it would be easier for him to get to, since he wouldn’t have to push past everyone crowding the tiny space. Besides, he figured he could grab a rice krispie treat on his way back. Virgil had made them earlier that day and he didn’t know what the man added to them, but they were magic, literally, the best rice krispie treats he’d ever had. He figured he was owed a couple of treats, because he’d been relatively strict on himself about eating healthy during this pregnancy.

 

Mark did his business and began to trudge over to the kitchen…. And paused by the back door. It was open, with just the screen locked to let in the cool night air, but that wasn’t what caught Mark’s attention. Behind the pool, kind of off the side of Cersa’s house there was a steep hill in the distance. In the sky above the hill, there was a series of flashing lights. That’s what had caught Mark’s attention in the first place. He didn’t know of anything up there that could be causing those lights. He didn’t think there should have been anything up there at all but rattlesnakes and scorpions. The lights flashed several different colors; blue, red, pink, back to blue again. It was bizarre. In his time in Arizona he’d kind of learned that everyone out there had had some kind of alien encounter or another. Hell, even Cersa was telling him just the other day about seeing the Phoenix Lights in the 90’s. That had caused Damien to bring up the Battle of Los Angeles in the 40’s. Their retelling of those incidents are what it made Mark think of; some old, grainy, vhs footage of those UFO sightings.    
  


Curious, Mark reached out to take the handle on the screen door, but almost immediately, Damien was there, gently pushing him back from the door. “I wouldn’t advise that.” Damien told him, as he took out his cane, pressing it against the screen door as he looked out there for himself.

 

Before Mark could even say anything. Cersa and Virgil had caught up with Damien. Immediately Cersa had thrown her arms around him, wrapping around his chest, trapping his arms to his side as she pulled him further away from the door. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asked him with concern. “Your eyes are looking a little weird right now.” She noted.

 

“I’m fine.” Mark told her, just confused as all hell right then. Damien shook his head.

 

“He’s not okay, he’s enchanted.” Damien told her. “They were trying to lure him out.” 

 

“Who’s they?” Virgil asked, and Mark noted immediately that Virgil had one of his hands on the hilt of his dagger, moving to place himself between the door and Mark as well. Cersa’s hands on his biceps tightened a bit in response to Damien’s information, as she tugged Mark closer to her.

 

Damien pointed out towards the hill. “Small demon group.” he muttered, as he continued to watch the lights. “Five… maybe six of them.” He said. 

 

“What do they want with Mark?” Virgil asked. 

 

“Well, all things considered, if this group is who I think it is, they might be friends of Bael’s.” 

 

“Shit.” Mark replied, jumping back a bit from the door, letting Cersa effectively prop him up. “Shit fuck, and I nearly…”

 

“It's not your fault.” Damien told him. "You were bewitched." 

 

"Well what do we do?" Virgil asked. Virgil had a look on his face that Mark had never seen before. He looked beyond angry, almost shaking with rage, like he was ready to lay down the law to the group of upstarts standing around outside. It was a little breath-taking, seeing the man like that, when he was normally so sweet and gentle.

 

"We?" Damien asked. He glanced back outside, watching the light show for a moment longer. "I can't get involved in this one."

 

"What?" Virgil demanded. "They damn well tried to take Mark, and you can't get involved?" Virgil demanded. 

 

"I can't. The boss and Bael sometimes have the same allies." Damien shrugged. "If I get into it with them we'll have bigger problems on our hands than a couple of demon brigands starting shit because you fucked over their buddy." 

 

"So what do we do then?" Cersa asked.

 

"Virgil's gonna have to handle it." Damien said. 

 

"What?" Virgil asked. "Me on my own against how many…" 

 

"I'll go with you." Cersa volunteered then, finally releasing Mark. "If Damien can stay here with Mark, I'll go get my guns and we'll have a party." She said. "Then you're not involved, and Mark is safe. Would that work for you?" She asked Damien.

 

Damien nodded. "Works for me." He said, as he switched places with Cersa. Damien took a hold of Mark's upper arm, drawing him back a few steps, as Cersa went to grab her weapons.

 

"I mean, I guess that evens things out a little." Virgil said. 

 

“Don’t worry, she’s terrifying.” Damien said. “Be more worried about yourself.” He advised.

"I mean I can probably attest to that.” Mark relented after a moment. “Just be careful." Mark begged the other man. "Don't get yourself hurt because of me, Virgil." 

 

"Well, we can't let them get passed us.." Virgil noted softly. "Especially if Damien can't get involved." 

 

"Don't worry about Mark." Damien huffed, as Cersa rejoined them, checking her weapons as she returned. She had a hand gun strapped to a thigh holster and an AR with a leather strap hanging over her shoulder. "If the two of you fail I'm taking Mark and we're going underground in Europe. You may never see us again." Damien said flippantly.

 

"What?" Mark and Cersa spoke up at nearly the same time. 

 

"A little incentive for the two of you not to fail." Damien said, tightening his hold on Mark's arm. "Now go."

 

There had to have been magic involved in what Damien did next. The man raised up his cane and the world changed around them. The next thing he knew Cersa and Virgil were standing outside, and in another flash, Mark and Damien were barricaded together in the library. Well, former library. Damien had since transformed the room into his base of operations. There were maps covering the walls, stacks of books on the floors and on the bed, next to the large wolf that was currently sprawled out in between the piles. The shelves with all of Cersa’s books were now pushed up against the walls, her desk shoved into a corner. And Damien had really upped the claustrophobic feeling of the place by removing the doors and windows at some point…

 

“Damn what you’ve done with the place.” Mark muttered. 

 

“Thanks.” Damien grabbed a chair and sat down heavily, kicking up booted feet to rest on the desk. 

 

“That was pointedly not a compliment.” Mark replied, placing his hands protectively over his stomach. He didn’t even know why, but he figured he might have just needed the comfort of feeling his baby moving in there. As if she could read his mind, she kicked his palm almost immediately.

 

Damien snorted. “Well, make yourself at home, anyways. We’re probably going to be here for a while.” he said. “What do you think about Italy? You know what’s beautiful, actually? Sicily. There’s an active volcano on there, it’s wicked cool.” he said.

 

“Sounds…” Mark shrugged a little. “I don’t want to go to Italy.” He said then. “I don’t want to leave here and leave Milo behind.” 

 

“Kasmilos would want you safe.” Damien replied, tipping the top of his cane in Mark’s direction. “And if that means taking you someplace far the fuck away from here, then that’s where we’re going.” 

 

“I just don’t get why…” Mark shook his head. 

 

“Why it has to be like this?” Damien asked, tipping his head to the side. “Because I owe someone a debt.” 

 

“Right, your boss.” Mark replied snidely. “Sold your soul for power, and the price you pay for it is now you can’t use it to help Virgil and Cersa.”

 

“Well.” Damien hummed a little. “There was a little more to it than that.” 

 

Mark glanced back to Damien, kind of looking at the man over his shoulder. Somewhere outside the room, there was a loud, rumbling sound, causing a reverberation to send waves through the room. Mark thought about Virgil and Cersa out there, fighting those demons alone. He thought again about what he almost did, walking outside without thinking, into the hands of those demons. He felt a pang in his chest at what nearly happened. He remembered pretty viscerally what Cersa had told him about Emma’s fate. To think about that happening to him, to his baby…

 

He went and sat down on the bed. Griever didn’t quite make room for him, but he rolled onto his side, which allowed Mark room to get a little more centered. “Tell me.” Mark requested quietly. 

 

Damien raised an eyebrow at him. “Tell you what?” 

 

“About you and the boss, I guess.” Mark said. “Whatever you want to tell me.” Mark said.

 

“Why the sudden interest?” Damien asked. 

 

“I want to get my mind off of the incredibly stupid thing I nearly did before you stopped me.” Mark said softly. 

 

Damien tipped his head to the side, tapping the cane against his thigh absently. “That’s not your fault. It was a spell; they were trying to lure you out.” He said. 

 

“It nearly worked.” Mark pointed out. 

 

“Well.” Damien looked to him. “Your boyfriend has powerful allies.” He said, gesturing to himself with both hands. Mark waited patiently, as Damien thought about how to explain his history with the boss.

 

“The thing is… the boss did more for me than just give me power.” he said, looking to Mark. “I could have done the moral thing. Refused his help. Lived out the rest of my tragically short life the way God had planned.” He said. “And within hours the town would have burned me at the stake.” he said bitterly. “My blood would have run in the streets, I’d already seen them do it to the rest of my poor family. Tell me what good is serving a God that only wants you for a martyr?” Damien nearly hissed. “I put my life in the boss’ hands, and I think I’ve done more good serving the devil.” He said.

 

“At least recently.” Mark said.

 

Damien snickered a little at that. “Yeah, especially recently.” he said. “You must not think much of my decisions.”

 

“I mean. I don’t blame you for wanting to save your own life. Especially when you’re a teenager.” Mark said. “What did you do to the town?”

 

Damien was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you want to know that?” He asked. 

 

“Maybe not.” Mark said.

 

Damien smirked a little, looking to Mark. “It ain’t all been bad.” he tried to reassure Mark. “I got lucky. The boss doesn’t often go looking for trouble. He gets along with most demons. He likes his pleasures, and most of my duties have revolved around fulfilling them.” He shrugged. “And in return I have my leave to do… mostly as I wish.” he said. “Like fumble around in the desert looking for a twig. Which he finds hilarious, by the way.” 

 

“Bet he does.” Mark replied.

 

“You know… he would know about that shit.” Damien said, tossing his hand in the air. “He and I… well we have a tendency to get ourselves into all kinds of trouble. Here, this one will make you laugh. This one time-” Damien cleared his throat, thinking back. “This was back in the 60s, actually, to kind of set the backdrop. Both us spent the night in the desert. We were blasted out of our minds, getting drunk. Getting high. Shooting things.” Damien snorted. “We partied pretty much the entire night, didn’t bother to sleep. And the next day we piled into my car and…” he paused seeing the look Mark was giving him. “Look.” he said. “I told you, it was the 60s. Nobody gave a shit if you drove drunk. Especially not in Desert Center, California.” he said. 

 

Mark blinked at him. “I don’t think I even know where that is.”

 

“You’re kidding me. You’ve lived in California how long now?” 

 

“That doesn’t mean I know everywhere!” Mark replied.

 

“You literally drive through it on the way to…” Damien shook his head. “Not the point. Point is, we got in the car, and started driving back towards Los Angeles. There was no interstate back then, just kind of this long, meandering road. Well on our way we blew a tire, and had to pull over to the side of the road.” Damien told him. “So we were changing the tire, still drunk. Still high. I noticed a rattlesnake not too far away. It was hissing, spitting, the whole deal.” He said. “I pointed it out to the boss, and he fucking laughs.” Damien said, grinning a little at the memory.

 

“We had this empty suitcase in the backseat of the car. Not sure why we had it, honestly. No, wait, it was probably stolen. But the boss grabs it, walks over to the rattlesnake, throws it over it.” Damien said, and now he was showing Mark, kind of acting the story out. “Closes it up real fast, buckles it up with the snake inside, and throws it in the back seat of the car. Which by the way, we both thought was totally hilarious at the time.” 

 

Mark snorted at that. “That’s why you don’t do drugs.” Kind of absently, Mark reached out to the wolf lying down beside him, gently petting its fur. After a minute or so of the gentle treatment, the wolf rolled over onto its back, seeming to ask for belly rubs, which Mark was happy to provide.

 

“Oh, those PSAs didn’t even exist back then. Even if they did, we wouldn’t have listened to them. Here we are, what, sixty years later, and still no one gives a shit.” Damien dismissed. “So we finish up the tire, jump back in the car, and we start driving once more. The whole time, we can hear that snake going nuts, while we’re in the front seat just giggling like a couple of girls. Well as we went on we begin to sober up, and we begin thinking to ourselves, what the hell are we going to do with a suitcase with a pissed off rattlesnake in it?” He said. “So after a while, when it sounds like maybe the snake’s calmed down a little, maybe it fell asleep we’re not sure, the boss gets out of the car, grabs the suitcase, leaves it standing up on the side of the road. And as we’re getting ready to take off again, we see a car pull up behind us.”

 

“Oh no.” Mark muttered, looking to Damien. “Did they really…?” 

 

“They fucking did.” Damien assured him. “It was a guy and maybe like three of his friends. We can’t say for sure how many people were in the car, but one of them got out, grabbed the suitcase, tossed it into the front seat, jumped back in, and took off. I mean, they sped off.” Damien said. “I’m not sure what they thought they stole but the boss and I looked at each other real quick and decided we needed to warn them. So we pull back onto the road behind them, and we’re honking the horn at them, trying to get them to pull over, and they’re flipping us off, screaming at us.”

 

Damien paused, wiping his nose as he thought about it. “Well I’m not for sure what happened, but we figure someone in that car got the bright idea to open up that suitcase and…”

 

“Oh god.” Mark said, already beginning to snicker.

 

“While me and the boss watched, the car began to wobble, we could hear them all screaming and whatever, and suddenly, they veer off the side of the road, hit a ditch and flip the damn car over.” he said. “Well we figured if anyone was able to walk away from that shit they’d probably try to kill us, so the boss hit the gas and we sped away as far and as fast as we could. Tactical retreat.” Damien said.

 

Mark did laugh at that. Damien smirked along with him. “That is about the dumbest thing.” Mark told him. “I kind of feel bad for the rattler.” 

 

“Nah, don’t feel bad for him.” Damien shrugged. “He had the element of surprise. Probably killed every son of a bitch in that car, then slithered away totally unhurt.”

 

“I mean. I guess that’s true.” Mark nodded. 

 

“Boss and I swore to each other that day that we would never tell another living soul what the fuck happened that day.” Damien finished off his story.

 

“Then… what’s this… right now?” Mark asked. He gave Damien an incredulous look, but honestly, he was feeling a lot more at ease right then. 

 

“Oh we told everyone.” Damien said. “You have a story like that, and you get away with it, you fucking tell everyone.” he said. “It’s one of those pride things. You survive a bullshit experience like that, and live to tell the tale, you earn the right to bore everyone with it.”

 

“I didn’t think it was boring.” Mark chimed in. 

 

“By the tenth time you hear it from me… you will.” Damien told him. He dropped his feet from the bed, sitting up a little in his chair. “I think that story ended just in time for us to have a couple of visitors…” 

 

“Virg and Cersa?” Mark asked, hopeful.

 

“With any luck.” Damien said, but he was interrupted before he could manage to add anything else on to that statement.

 

“The fuck did you do to my house?” Mark heard Cersa shout from the hallway. “Used to be a door here… Damien open the fuck up!” She shouted, pounding her fist on the wall separating her from Damien and Mark.

 

Mark stood up from the bed. “We’re in here!” He called.

 

“Hold on, kid, hold on.” Damien stood up finally, taking his cane with him. He gently pushed Mark back from the wall, taking up a defensive position in front of him. “Who’s out there?” He demanded.

 

There was a pause. “Damien I will beat you six ways from Sunday if you don’t open my library back up right the fuck now.” 

 

Damien looked back to Mark. “Yeah that’s her.” he said, as he moved to the wall. “Just wanted to make sure.” He smacked the wall with his cane nine times, three times for every possible entrance to the room, Mark realized after a moment. When he was done, the windows and door seemed to rematerialize, looking like dust falling from the ceiling to the floor, and leaving those entrances in the spell’s wake.

 

Once the door was back, Cersa wasted no time pushing it open.

 

“I take it the threat is dissolved?” Damien asked her.

 

“If by that you mean, are there five dead demons lying at the top of that hill? Because yeah, there are five dead demons lying on the top of that hill.” Cersa said, as she moved to eject an empty clip from her hand gun. “And neither me nor Virgil can be assed to do anything about it, so that’s your job, now, Damien. Do something with them.” 

 

“Hm, boss probably won’t like that much.” Damien shrugged. “But it wasn’t me, so. Suppose he can’t be too mad.”

 

“Where’s Virg?” Mark asked then, looking to Cersa.

 

“He got a black eye, I sent him to go put an ice pack on it.” She said. 

 

“I’ll go check on him.” Mark said, pushing past her to go and see Virgil. He paused in the doorway, turning to look at Damien. “And thank you.” He said, before moving away entirely.

 

Cersa blinked a little, turning to see Damien smiling softly. “The hell.” She whispered. “What did you do to him while we were gone?”

 

“Nothing. But I’m his favorite, now.” Damien told her. 

 

“Oh, like hell you are.” Cersa snapped at him. “And another thing. You fucking threaten to take off with him again and I will rain hellfire on you for a thousand years.” Cersa warned him. Damien snorted at that. 

 

“So basically you’re saying nothing will change about my life at all because you’ve been doing that literally since the day I met you?” Damien said. “Got it, anything else?”

 

“Nope. Shovel’s in the back.” She said, as she turned to leave Damien alone with the wolf.

 

Damien rolled his eyes. He glanced over to Griever, and even the wolf seemed to refuse to look at him. “Okay, why is everyone mad? That was motivation. And it worked!” He challenged the wolf. 

 

The wolf tilted it’s massive head back towards Damien, looking its master over for a moment, before dropping it’s head back to the mattress.

 

“Yeah no, you’re coming with me.” Damien said. “Come on, you love digging holes. Just this time we’ll be digging graves and not my garden.” 

 

The wolf didn’t seem any kind of enthused, but it eventually rolled off the mattress, moving to join Damien for his grisly new task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made Damien a long ass time ago. (Actually, I think right around the time Mark's channel was starting to gear up, lmao.) I made him to have an Alice Cooper-type character to play with my friend's character, but having him be a vampire was so rote at that point. So I looked back at some of the man's various works, and I really enjoyed that comic series that came out alongside "The Temptation of Alice Cooper" where he's essentially playing the devil in disguise. That sleazy sort of car salesman-esque thing but he's after your soul. So I used that as my inspiration and fleshed him out from there. 
> 
> And the reason I pulled him into this is because I've used him in a lot of different rp's, I've seen him in just about every possible scenario, I know him inside and out. He's old, as far humans go. He's cynical as shit. He's seen men be born, grow, and die in the blink of an eye. And in relation to this story, I've always meant for him to be the powerhouse. You may think that's Milo and yeah, he can pull some freaky shit. But that's because I've never fully unleashed Damien. In the context of this story I've yet to push Damien to a point where he has to. I'm planning on getting him there eventually, and that's why Mark needs to learn to trust him. That's why this chapter is going to be important. I didn't necessarily mean to cram it all into the same chapter, but hey, shit happens sometimes. For the most part though, Damien is a guy with an unbelievable amount of power, but he rarely exerts it because he's been around the bend enough to know that sometimes using it creates more problems than it fixes.
> 
> And on that note I've finally rewatched Who Killed Markiplier. I watched the Warfstache thing, I watched Damien. (Which was _fucking_ beautiful by the way.) But I decided I didn't want to say anything until after I saw his explanation for it, because I figured I could only come up with my own theories, even though I thought I recognized some of the themes he was choosing to portray. And I say that because I recognize those themes in some of the things that I write. 
> 
> Like anyone remember how he kept hammering on the whole thing about choice? And how through out that whole thing Damien had no choice, until the very end. Well, how coincidental, because the whole entirety of the first story in this series was pretty much exactly that. I removed Mark from his place of safety, I took away any choice he could have had, and the only thing he could do was decide how he was going to pull himself up and continue. I relate pretty heavily to that, the whole idea that life will throw shit at you and the only thing you can do is choose how you're going to react to it. These events that shape the kind of person you end up becoming. It's something that I'm still struggling with, and I've kind of talked about it a little bit. I may some day get into more detail. 
> 
> The thing I enjoyed most about this was hearing him echo back to me thoughts and feelings that I'd had, and my suspicions about him and his character. I'm now about 98% confident that I have him nailed down. I think before I was about 88%, now my confidence is way, way up. You guys have no idea how scared I get to put every new chapter up, and how much writing this story has been breaking the mold for me. Because I am utterly terrified of getting him out of character. I have this to a certain extent with every story I write, but with Mark it's been exceptionally hard because I've seen how you guys react to things. There's so much abundant concern and love for Mark that I don't think I've seen before in other fandoms. So putting this out there, putting my ideas out there, it's hard. But at the same time, I want to improve, I want to be a good writer, and I know that part of that growing process is taking the risk. I've been taking a lot of risks this year. Life's been kind of scary lately.
> 
> The only other thing that I feel like I need to touch on, is the rattlesnake story. That's a- well we believe it's a true story, because it's certainly within the realm of things my grandfather would do. Everytime we saw him that was the story he would tell, us that time he was in the desert and his drunk and high ass shoved a rattlesnake into a suitcase then left it on the side of the road for some other innocent bystanders to find. But also on that note, my grandfather was an emotionally/physically abusive piece of shit. On his deathbed, my dad asked him about all the times he took him camping/fishing as a child, and right when my dad was about to tell him that those were his fondest memories growing up, my grandfather interrupted and told him that 'he only did that because the courts said he had to have him every other weekend, and it was free because he already had all the equipment.'
> 
> So yeah I guess this is my way of saying, I dedicate this chapter to him, and I hope wherever he is, he chokes on it.


	11. Paranormal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else feel guilty for your writing? Like I feel like I've said 'Poor Mark' everytime I go to upload a new chapter to this monster fic. I feel terrible for torturing him, but like. I can't stop myself either. 
> 
> Guys please note that I've updated the warnings on this fic. This shit I didn't consider spoilery, it's just a risk whenever I write something. Lmao. 
> 
> And one other thing. I'm gonna introduce a new character in this chapter. Her name is Calypso, and I've hinted before that Mark's had encounters with her before. And I considered producing the one shot that their history stems from and releasing it along side this chapter, but looking at my schedule for the next week or so, I knew that I couldn't do that and put out this chapter. So I'll just briefly summarize it:
> 
> Mark makes her laugh and they're friends. Ta-dah!
> 
> No, I will write that one shot at some point. Someone hold me accountable, please, because she's going to be important later. Maybe not in this long fic, but certainly for the sequel. (Yeah, I have to go there again.) 
> 
> I don't think I have anything else to add. Hey, anyone remember that Mark's been having those nightmares for a while? Yeah it's time to talk about those.

Everytime it happened, he got a little bit better at controlling it. 

 

These rare glimpses of consciousness were brief forays into what was happening into the world around him while he was forced to sleep.

 

Milo had learned that he could move amongst the shadows. He didn’t understand why. Maybe it was a part of the spell he was under, something to torment him with, by allowing him to peer into lives that he was missing out on.

 

Sometimes Mark was there. Other days he had to search for him. Today it seemed he would have to look for him.

 

Just trying to move down the hallway felt like being a drunken sailor crossing the bridge of a ship in a storm. It was difficult to move, but he was getting better at it, at finding the openings that would allow him to travel from one room to another.  

 

He found Mark in Cersa’s room, the blanket tugged up to his chest as he curled into the fetal position. Cersa was sitting on the bed behind him, her hand gently clasping his shoulder. She was leaned in very close, resting her cheek against his, as she tried desperately to comfort him.

 

Mark was weeping quietly into the pillow.

 

He’d have died a thousand times over to keep that man from looking so heartbroken. Helpless to do anything else, Milo leant over the bed. He gently ran his fingers over Mark’s cheek, watching his fingers phase through a tear and leaving it untouched upon his skin. He frowned, as he pressed a kiss to Mark’s cheek, knowing full well that the man probably couldn’t feel it. 

 

He sank down beside the bed, wishing he could hold him, comfort him. Anything. 

 

He hated being so powerless.

 

~~

 

**Twenty-Eight Weeks** \- Baby is the Size of a Large Eggplant

 

It was the scent of vetiver that woke Mark up this time. It made him think of Milo’s cologne. He could have sworn he felt something press against his cheek, too. It was a strange feeling, and his instinct was to reach out and find Cersa but he realized quickly that she wasn’t there.

 

It was kind of rare that Mark woke up alone these days. With Damien camping out in the library and Virgil in the living room on Milo’s couch, Mark somehow  _ still _ found himself sharing a bed with Cersa. Which he very much wanted to complain about. It felt weird to be sharing a bed with what was essentially his sister in law. But at the same time, while he was going through the ups and downs of being pregnant with a demi-goddess, (which apparently would be a hard thing for a woman to do, and they’re literally built for this shit) she was always very quick to take care of him when he needed, almost to the point of doting. So, gritting his teeth all the while, he just kind of started to go with it. He usually woke up with Cersa plastered to his back, like she was unconsciously attracted to the heat he gave off. He’d been fine with that lately, because having her there helped to support his back, as he got heavier. He was beginning to get used to her being there. 

 

He would have preferred it to be Milo, obviously, but Milo hadn’t been doing so well lately. 

 

Pushing that to the back of his mind for now, (because if he didn’t he’d probably end up crying himself to sleep  _ again _ , and he patently did not want that,) he decided what he needed to do was get out of bed and look for Cersa. However, once he got himself into a sitting position, he realized he needed to reorder his priorities a little. He needed to go to the bathroom first. Then he could look for her. There was just something about having that baby girl sitting literally on his bladder that made him feel like he had to go every fifteen minutes.

 

Once he was done with that he proceeded down the hallway to the living room, pausing for the briefest moment outside of the guest room where Milo was sleeping. He could hear the buzz of the various machines he was hooked up to, enough so that the room was beginning to fill with them. Despite every measure they’d taken, the man was still in decline. 

 

_ It just wasn’t fair _ . 

 

He walked out to find Cersa sitting on the couch, absently scrolling through some website on her laptop. It was obvious that she’d been crying for a while too, she just hadn’t wanted to do it in front of Mark. But she had a tissue box sitting in her lap, and an assortment of crumpled up tissues laying on the floor, on the coffee table, all around her. 

 

“Whatcha…. Whatcha looking at?” Mark asked, as he approached the back of the couch. Cersa glanced up to him while putting a hand on the screen, looking like, for a brief moment, like she was considering closing up the laptop before he could see. After an internal debate she seemed to shrug it off and just left it open. 

 

“I’m in the bad part of the internet.” She admitted after a moment. 

 

“Oh.” Mark said softly. “I mean, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I used to end up there quite a bit back in highschool.” He said. 

 

“I guess.” Cersa said. “I was looking up some stuff about…” She gestured vaguely at the room Milo was in. “There really wasn’t anything helpful, though.” Which Mark took as entirely bad news. “So I ended up on one of those spooky, conspiracy theory boards.” She said.

 

“That’s a hell of a transition.” Mark said.

 

“I don’t know. It’s usually calming for me.” She said with a shrug. 

 

“I do get that.” Mark said, thinking to all the inordinate amount of creepypasta he used to read back in the day. Stuff that really freaked him out, but he kept coming back to. He thought he could understand why that would be calming, especially after the day they’d all had. 

 

“Well, it’s usually calming, was supposed to be my transition here...” Cersa said, as she scrolled down a little to show him the front page of the board. And… there was his face. 

 

“Fuck.” Mark muttered after a moment, as it registered with him what she was showing him. 

 

“Yeah.” Cersa replied.

 

It had been a long, long time since Mark had had any contact, at all, with the outside world. Damien had made damn sure that he and everyone else in the small household knew that no one outside of their little family group was supposed to know Mark’s location until after the baby was born. Mark had never even bothered to replace his cellphone and he hadn’t been online in months.  _ Months _ . Which was both good and bad. Good, because he was able to just kind of focus on taking care of Milo and the baby. Bad because, well. Right now, he was looking at the bad. 

 

“What are they saying?” Mark asked, almost too scared to know.

 

“I mean… they’re just kind of debating it.” Cersa said. “Everyone seems to have their own opinion. Their own theories.” She said. “There’s like eyewitness sightings and blurry photos on the level of ‘Elvis is still alive but in hiding.’” She told him. “Some people swear they’ve seen you in France.” 

 

“I wish.” Mark muttered a little, moving in a little bit closer and peering at the thread over Cersa’s shoulder.    
  
“I guess the police were involved for a while, but they closed out their investigation this week.” Cersa told him. “Hence the thread.” 

 

“They were? What did they come up with?” Mark asked her. He guessed he wasn’t too surprised to hear that someone had gotten the police involved. He had money on that being his mom. His family would definitely look for him. 

 

“The police said you ‘have the right to disappear.’” 

 

“Oh.” Mark said, blinking a little. “They think I just… ran off?” Mark asked. Which technically. Yes, that was exactly what he did. There had been a little more to it than that, though, so it was surprising to him to hear that.

 

“That’s their story. And I mean, they’re right. You do.” Cersa told him. “You do have that right.” She told him.

 

“But I would never…”

 

Cersa stopped him. “But you did.” She reminded. 

 

“Yeah but… not forever.” Mark said. 

 

“Well, they don’t know that.” Cersa told him, as she continued to scan the page. “Anyways, your family has power of attorney over your estate until you come back. The article that was linked said, _ if  _ you come back.” Cersa told him. “They’re still looking for you, if you were worried about being declared dead or anything like that.” She said. He was sure that was meant to be comforting, but the thought just kind of shattered his heart. Thinking about his family looking for him and probably thinking the worst while he’s there, perfectly safe in Arizona, just unable to contact anyone. He was going to have a lot of apologies to make when this was over with, but he kind of hoped the introduction of a new grandchild would help to smooth things over. “The internet just has their own theories.” She said. 

 

“I’ll bet they do.” Mark sighed. “I mean we left a few hours after that whole livestream fuck up.” He sighed. Yeah, that probably looked really bad, for both himself and Milo. 

 

“Do you want to hear them?” Cersa asked.

 

Mark shook his head. “I’m positive they’ll just give me anxiety.” He said. “I’m gonna go find Virgil and Damien. There’s no way that whatever they’re doing is more depressing than this.”  He said, pushing away from the couch.

 

“Damien’s pretty upset though, so. I think you’re wrong.” Cersa warned him, as she continued to scroll through the board.

 

“We all are.” Mark muttered a little.

 

Cersa’s doctor friend had come over earlier that day to check on Milo, and the appointment had gone completely tits up. Milo was now on full life support, after he’d coded on them that morning, right in the middle of the check up. They had all come very, very close to losing him and that information had kind of sent a shockwave through everyone in their little group. This, seeming almost out of the blue, after months of there being no change. Throughout the whole ordeal, Damien had been quiet and he’d been the first to leave the room once Milo was stable, and Virgil followed after him, after first checking to make sure that Mark was okay. 

 

Mark pushed open the front door and stood for a moment on the patio. Cersa’s house was located in an area that was a little remote. No neighbors around for miles and only an unmaintained dirt road to lead to it. There was open desert on either side of her, and that hill in the back, that Mark had never been brave enough to walk up, especially now that he was getting further along in his pregnancy. Well, especially now that he knew there were five dead demons buried up there.

 

Mark turned his head to the left, as he heard what sounded like a gunshot going off close by. 

 

He figured that was probably Damien. Mark grabbed the flashlight that Cersa kept by the front door and made his way out.

 

It didn’t take him long at all to find Damien and Virgil. 

 

It looked like Damien and Virgil had set up a little camp. They’d made a little fire, with what looked like pieces of dried out cactus for kindling. Virgil had pushed up a small boulder (Mark could tell by the lines in the dirt) to sit next to it, and Damien was standing nearby. They were watching the fire in relative silence, and it seemed at first like a calm scene, until Mark realized that Damien was holding one of Cersa’s guns. 

 

Mark had never seen Damien holding a gun. Ever. Frankly he didn’t know whether to chalk that up as one of the man’s many talents, or to be concerned. At the very least, Virgil didn’t seem concerned. Whatever bullshit was happening right there, Virgil was calm. That did a lot to soothe his nerves. 

 

Virgil glanced up when he noticed Mark approaching, and scooted over a bit to make room for him.

 

“What are we doing tonight?” Mark asked, as he sank down onto the boulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the world, especially in his current state, but he made do by leaning somewhat heavily on Virgil. Mark was beginning to understand that his pregnancy was making him a lot more affectionate with people, and he had long since stopped trying to fight it.

 

“Hunting rattlers.” Virgil told him. “Well. Damien’s hunting them. I’m watching in case he gets bitten.” 

 

“I’m not going to get bitten.” Damien said casually. “They’re attracted to the fire.” Damien spoke up, for the first time since Mark had found them. Mark looked over, and saw a complete lineup of the snakes, of various sizes, mostly diamondbacks, laying out across a nearby stone.

 

“What are you going to do with them?” Mark asked after a moment, and Damien shrugged.

 

“Belts, probably. Maybe I’ll use a couple to replace an older pair of boots. Make a stew out of the meat.” He said. “It’s a little greasy, rattlesnake meat, but it tastes just like chicken.” 

 

“Interesting.” Mark noted softly. So now it wasn’t a mystery to any of them how Damien grieved. They weren’t stuck in the wilderness, trying to survive so they didn’t need to do this, it’s not like they needed to kill something that could kill you back to survive. But Damien was upset; he’d nearly lost a good friend that day. And goddammit, he just had to kill something. 

 

It wasn’t like Mark could ever see Damien going to therapy, and while this probably wasn’t the healthiest way to go about things, he supposed it was better than drowning your sorrows. 

 

Mark jumped a little when Damien abruptly raised the shotgun and fired off a shot. Mark heard something drop to the ground nearby. Virgil glanced over to Mark. The man’s face was almost unreadable in the flickering of the little campfire, but he had to figure that Virgil was affected by everything too. He’d never even met Milo, but he knew Damien, and he knew Mark and Cersa. Seeing what the three of them were dealing with couldn’t have been easy.

 

Mark watched as Damien moved over to the now dead snake, and Virgil stood, peering around the fire to keep watch. 

 

“So boys.” Damien said, as he brought the end of his shotgun down on the snake’s head, effectively crushing it. Mark kind of winced at the sound it made. Damien waited for a second, waiting to see if it tried to move again, before finally picking it up by the tail, bringing it to rest on the stone with the rest of his collection. “Do you remember what the lesson was yesterday?” 

 

Both Mark and Virgil spoke up. “Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.” They said in near unison.

 

Damien placed a hand over his heart, looking just about the proudest he’d ever looked. “My sons.” He said.

 

“I think we’ve just been adopted.” Virgil said, glancing back to Mark.

 

“I think you’re right.” Mark whispered back. 

 

“Well.” Damien said, as he reloaded. “The reason I bring it up, is… I’m heading out again tomorrow.” He told them. “I have reinforcements coming along. Even the boss is offering to help.” 

 

“Really?” Virgil asked, skeptically. “What does he want for that?” 

 

Damien gave Virgil a long look. “Well. It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” he said after a moment. “Don’t worry about it.” He finally added. 

 

Virgil frowned a little at that. “I can’t help but worry about it.” 

 

“It’s for Kasmilos.” Damien said. “It’s worth it.” 

 

Mark didn’t say anything, in protest or encouragement. He wanted Milo back badly. He would have given damn near anything.If Damien’s boss could offer something, anything to help bring him back, he wanted it. He was very keenly aware of how selfish it probably was, but he didn’t care either.

 

“I just want to make sure you boys are okay while I’m gone.” Damien said, after a moment.

 

“I’ll protect them.” Virgil said, though it didn’t need to be said. Virgil had always protected Mark and Cersa, without question. 

 

Damien chewed his bottom lip for a second, seeming to consider everything, before finally nodding. “I know you will.” he said.

 

“What about the baby shower?” Mark finally asked. “Will you be back for that?” 

 

Damien snorted at that. “I still think that’s the stupidest… Yes, I’ll definitely be back for that.” Damien said. “Someone needs to keep an eye on Virgil, so he doesn’t get taken advantage of by a group of oversexed mermaids.” 

 

“On me?” Virgil asked.

 

“Yes, you, my virginal child.” Damien said.

 

Mark snorted at that. “You’re still a virgin, Virg?” 

 

Virgil gave him an annoyed look. “It’s not… not that I’ve never had the opportunity. It just never felt like the right time.” 

 

Mark shrugged a little. “I lost mine when I was 19.” He said. 

 

“Yeah?” Virgil asked. “How do you feel about it now?” 

 

“I mean, I’m glad I did it.” Mark told him. “I knew the girl from high school. And I was interested in her, but I don’t think she was all too interested in me.” he said with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure she faked orgasm to spare my feelings, I was kind of a mess about it.” He admitted. “But hey, by the next time I knew my shit a little bit better so, I guess I had to have the bad first experience to do better the next time around.” He said.

Virgil hummed a little. “Maybe my standards are too high. I want mine to be special.” He said with a shrug, and Mark smiled a little.

 

“Nothing wrong with that.” He said. “That is virgin talk, though.” 

 

“Why do you think I’m coming back to save him?” Damien asked. “There’s something precious about that innocence, I’m not letting a group of horny mermaids rob him of that. They’ll figure out he’s a virgin fast, it’ll be like blood in the water.” he said. He tipped his head at his own equivalence. “Figuratively. Figurative blood in the water.” 

 

“Is that something he really needs to be saved from…? Exactly?” Mark asked. “Maybe you should let the baby get himself cannon shot out of virginity?” He said. 

 

“Or. We can just not do that.” Damien said. “Besides, I have plans for Virgil. Lots more fun than losing his virginity.” 

 

“Um…” Virgil said, looking a little awkward.

 

“Yeah I’m not so sure that what you’ve got planned is gonna be more fun than sex with cute sea nymphs.” Mark said, kind of cracking up at Virgil’s reaction. 

 

Damien sighed a little. “Maybe I should let him kill something, focus those hormones into something…” 

 

Everything stopped when all three men heard a loud hissing sound, like air escaping from a vent. 

 

“Shit!” The next thing he knew Virgil was tugging Mark sharply away from the where he’d been sitting, just in time for Mark to see the rattlesnake that had been moving towards his ankle. Seeing the threat, Damien turned the gun to face the snake. With one shot he sent the instantly dead snake flying backwards.

 

“Don’t touch it!” Damien hissed.

 

“Yeah hold on.” Virgil said, continuing to pull Mark along until he was a safe distance away as Damien moved over and proceeded to smash the snake’s head in the same manner he had for the other one.

 

Mark could feel his heart racing in his chest as he realized he’d nearly been bitten. He sank back against Virgil, allowing the man to take some of his weight as he was dragged to safety. He knew just on his own he wouldn’t have been able to move away in time, he was too heavy, his balance was way too shot. 

 

“You know.” Damien said, as he picked up the dead snake. “I think you should take Mark back to the house.” 

 

“Yeah.” Virgil said faintly. “That’s probably a good idea.” 

 

Virgil placed an arm around his waist and began to lead him back to the house. Mark felt absolutely no shame in letting Virgil support him most of the way back. Once they got there Mark turned back around, looking Virgil over for a moment. 

 

“He’s taking it hard.” Mark realized. Virgil nodded.

 

“I don’t think Damien’s had a lot of people he could safely rely on.” He said. “Kasmilos went way back with him.

 

“I think it’s all kind of hitting us.” Mark said softly. “We’re all just kind of wandering tonight. Not really knowing what to do with ourselves.” he said. Mark chewed his lip for a moment. “If he… If he doesn’t find the staff... I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He told Virgil privately. “It’s not even that I’m worried for myself, or for the baby, I know we’re both taken care of but… I do want him around. To know his kid. And I’d like for her to know him.” Mark said.

 

Virgil nodded soberly. 

 

“We’re doing our best.” Virgil said softly. 

 

“Yeah, I know, and shit. You guys have kind of become family to me.” Mark told him. “I don’t know what I’d do without any of you, now.” He sighed. “I just… I wish Milo was here for this. He should be here for this.” Mark said, and he felt like his heart was cracking.

 

Abruptly, Virgil moved in, pulling Mark into a tight hug. Mark fell into the man’s chest way too easily. He badly needed the reassurance.

 

“No matter what happens.” Virgil assured him softly. “No matter what happens with this, we’ve got you. You and…” Virgil paused a little. “Have you even decided on a name yet?” 

 

“Tons.” Mark shrugged a little. “I’ve been cooing all kinds of names at her. Nothing’s really stuck yet.” 

 

“Ah, well.” Virgil pet his back softly. “Don’t stress out over it. You have enough on your plate.” He said. 

 

“Yeah…” Mark said, softly. “Keep an eye on Damien, okay?” Mark asked him.

 

“Of course.” Virgil said. “Get some sleep.” He said, as he turned to head back out into the desert. 

 

**Thirty Weeks** \- Baby is the Size of a Large Cabbage 

 

Mark felt someone rolling him onto his back. That was what woke him up. Whoever it was was taking incredible care with him, so he didn’t panic about it right off. In fact he might have fallen back asleep if it weren’t for the soft lips pressing against his, taking him into a soft kiss. He moaned a little, as they gently tugged his chin down, giving themselves access to his mouth. It had been so, so long since he’d been kissed, and frankly, his hormones had been off the rails. He had been so wildly horny lately. But with Milo in a coma…

 

In a… coma…

 

Mark shot upright, kicking the giggling mermaid off of him with strictly more force than he meant to.

 

“Calypso!” He shouted, as soon as he recognized her. 

 

The dark-skinned girl shot him a playful wink. She looked pretty much the way he remembered, from when he’d met her last summer. Beautiful, brown-eyed, assertive. She had on a necklace of collected seashells and pearls and a blue tube top, with a faux leather fringe hanging down from it. Kind of stereotypically, she was wearing a pair of denim shorts with iridescent mermaid scales decorating it.

 

“I missed you, Mark.” Calypso told him. “Cersa sent me to come and wake you, and I personally couldn’t think of a more pleasant way to be awakened.”

 

“Okay, I would have accepted you calling my name…?” He suggested. “A mild shaking, maybe? Not too hard, because of the baby but just… I mean come on.” Mark replied,wiping a hand over his mouth. He could see the sheen of her chapstick on his fingers after he caressed his lips. “I am with someone! In fact, not just someone, but  _ your  _ highly jealous, highly possessive cousin!” He reminded. 

 

“Well we’re just keeping it all in the family, then.” Calypso purred at him. 

 

“I am positive that is not how it works.” Mark replied.

 

Calypso grinned. “I agree to disagree.” She told him, reaching out to take his hands. “Come on, let me help you to get ready.” She said. “The girls are beginning to trickle in, and they’ll be looking for you.”

 

“The girls.” Mark replied. It was still pretty early. He’d been shocked awake. His brain was still stuttering through this information. “Oh god, I forgot. The baby shower’s today.” he said.

 

“That’s right!” She said, as she helped him get to his feet. Which he kind of appreciated, honestly; with his belly getting bigger and bigger, his center of gravity was completely thrown. “So we have to get you ready, we need to get you dressed, we’re going to have fun today. Get you ready for motherhood.”

 

“Fatherhood.” Mark corrected her. “I hope you guys aren’t expecting me to look good.” he said. “They don’t exactly make maternity clothes for men.” He’d actually just kind of been going back and forth between wearing Milo’s oversized clothes and the triple x’ stuff Cersa had found at Target, and thus far, he’d been okay. If he’d ever actually gone anywhere in public, he was pretty sure people would just think he was just a sloppy homebody. Which, considering that he hadn’t actually left Cersa’s house in months, other than prenatal appointments, that was pretty much exactly what he was.

 

But Calypso shook her head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She dismissed. “You have that glow going on, I can see it. Your skin looks great.” She complimented him. 

 

“I really feel like you’re just trying to make me feel better, I haven’t glowed even once these past…” He paused, counting it out in his head. “Seven months?” he guessed, which, holy shit, did that ever put it in perspective. He was almost done doing his service as a goddess incubator. Pretty soon he was going to have a little girl and he hadn’t even thought about getting things ready for her. They had no nursery. He hadn’t been home in months. With Milo still incapacitated and him worrying over that, he hadn’t had room in his thoughts to even think about basics like, furniture. A crib. How is he bringing this kid home from the clinic without a car seat? It wasn’t going to be possible for him to feed her the traditional way, so shouldn’t he have been stockpiling on formula? Diapers?

 

Calypso studied his face for a moment, seeming to be able to read his thoughts just from his slightly panicked expression. “You know.” She told him after a moment. “Part of the reason to have a baby shower in the first place is to help the new parents prepare for the baby’s arrival.” She told him. “Kind of take the pressure off of you getting prepared and, we all know about Milo and the state he’s been in.” She said. “So we want you to just relax and enjoy today. Cersa’s been planning a few games, there’s going to be food, and everything’s going to be okay.” She assured him.

 

Mark took a deep, slow breath, before finally nodding. “Alright.” he said. “Okay. It’s going to be okay?” He asked, like he needed to double check.

 

Calypso laughed a little. “It’s going to be okay.” She promised him. “We’re going to take very good care of you.” 

 

~~

 

Calypso helped Mark to get around, doting on him while he showered and dressed. She was very methodical about helping him pick out an outfit that didn’t make him feel like he was swimming in it. She helped him with styling his hair for this event and he actually felt fairly decent. She finally took his arm and led him out of the bedroom and, sure enough, the Nereids were beginning to trickle in. Mark didn't think the home would be able to handle fifty additional guests, and he was right. The women were mostly loitering around the back and front entrances, and Mark easily could guess that there were a good amount of women hanging outside, especially in and around the pool. 

 

To his surprise, a good number of them were in Halloween costumes. 

 

Including Cersa, who was dressed in a very stereotypical, barely there maid's costume, with black devil horns adorning her dyed-purple hair. She was pressed up against the hallway closet, seeming to be struggling to keep it closed.

 

Mark paused, taking her in for a moment. "Okay." He said after a moment. "But why?"

 

Cersa grinned at him. "Because it’s almost Halloween." 

 

"It's weeks until Halloween…" Mark told her, and she smirked at him. 

 

"It's close enough." She decided.

 

"Okay…" he said, watching as the closet door nearly came open. Cersa panicked for a second, before shoving back hard against the door. "So." Mark drawled. "About this situation with the closet."

 

"I have no idea what you mean…"

 

"Where's my virgin!?"

 

Mark glanced up just in time to see Damien come down the hallway, dripping water onto the floor, looking just about as irritated as he'd ever seen him.

 

Cersa looked him over. "What the hell happened to you?" She asked. 

 

Damien gave her a glare. "One of your degenerate, no account cousins pushed me into the damn pool." 

 

"Me." Mark glanced up just in time to see a pretty brunette with a towel wrapped around her middle come in, shoot Damien a smug look, then push past all of them to get to the bathroom.

 

"Hey, Thaleia!" Mark said, looking back to Cersa. "I know her." 

 

"Great. Good for you." Damien sighed, as he tried in vain to wring out his shirt. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Where's my virgin?"

 

"Oh, you mean Virgil." Cersa finally inferred. "He's in the closet." She said, pointing to the door she was pressed up against with a quick incline of her head.

 

"Why is he in the closet?" Damien asked her slowly.

 

"I was protecting him!" Cersa insisted. "Some of the girls were getting a little handsy…" 

 

Damien sighed, wiping a hand across his damp brow. "Well I'm here now." He said. "And I've come to take him away from this madhouse. So please let him out."

 

"Sure, I guess he's safe with you." Cersa replied, and she abruptly stepped back from the door, allowing Virgil, who had to have been leaning up against the door, to tumble out. Virgil hunched over, placing both hands on his knees, like he hadn't been able to breathe in there, and honestly, Mark wasn't terribly surprised. There was probably only a few inches of space between the shelves and the door. He looked a  little crushed and winded. 

 

When he was done catching his breath, Virgil looked over to Mark. "Hey." He said. "How'd your morning go?" 

 

“Impromptu make out." Mark told him, glancing to the mermaid who was still leisurely holding his arm, seeming pretty pleased with herself.

 

"Oh?" Virgil asked. "Is that all?"

 

Damien sighed, moving over to gently haul Virgil up. "Come on." He said. "We're going to go do the manliest thing I can think of." He said, clapping Virgil on the shoulder firmly. "Use your device to find the nearest Harley-Davidson."

 

"Bullshit." Mark protested immediately. "I want to go to the Harley-Davidson. I can't believe you guys are abandoning me like this." He whined.

 

"Oh, you'll be fine." Damien insisted. "You get to spend the day with fifty beautiful mermaids." He said. "Getting pampered… doing your nails… whatever it is you ladies do." He said, shrugging a little.

 

"Curses and dark magic, lately." One of the other mermaids spoke up. "I've started a blog about it."

 

Damien rolled his eyes heavenward, as he gently began to maneuver Virgil out the door. They had to duck past a group of giggling girls, but with Damien’s guidance they eventually made it to the door. Mark grimaced a little. “I will remember your betrayal!” He shouted at the two of them. 

 

“Good luck!” Damien called back, not sounding concerned in the least. 

 

And just like that, they were gone, and Mark was found himself quickly the center of attention once more.

 

~~

 

All things considered, the baby shower wasn't as terrible as Mark thought it would be. A lot of the wildness he was expecting ended once Damien and Virgil removed themselves. Then once the temptation was gone everything went fairly cordially, the way you’d suspect a Halloween themed mermaid pool party/baby shower to go. There was a lot dancing to the Monster Mash. A lot of food. A lot of pretty young girls kissing his cheek and telling him he had that ‘pregnancy glow’. (Which he still didn’t really believe, but it was sweet of them to say.) Since they didn’t technically need to do a gender reveal, they kind of forewent all of that and dumped a ton of girl-themed gifts on him. 

 

Mark didn’t think so much  _ The Little Mermaid _ themed stuff existed until he saw the veritable mountain of it piled in front of him. Everything from dolls, to clothes, to bedsheets. One of the cousins, (Ephyra? Maybe?) had actually hand painted a shadow box filled with beach sand and starfish, with the words ‘A Little Mermaid Sleeps Here’ to hang over the baby’s crib. Which he wasn’t sure would be all that practical in earthquake-prone California, but it was very sweet all the same. Speaking of cribs and other furniture, he now had no reason at all to worry about where his kid was sleeping once she arrived, because the Nereids had seen to that too, along with formula, diapers, wipes, and other necessary things. They basically did all of the shopping he probably should have been doing all along, and had never given himself the chance to.

 

Most of Milo and Cersa’s had left by the evening, but a few of them were still hanging around. While Mark was sitting on the couch sipping at a juice box, while a mermaid in a cat costume (Clio) and another in a fairy outfit (Ianassa) sat on either side of him. They were both contently watching the DVD he’d been gifted of, you guessed it,  _ The Little Mermaid _ , and he was absolutely not surprised at all to see that they knew all of the words to every one of the songs. The only problem he had, was that he knew he was never going to be able to get ‘Part of Your World’ out of his head, now. 

 

Even Calypso, who was the more pragmatic of the bunch, seemed to be enjoying it. She was sitting on the floor in front of him, taking in the movie over her shoulder as she rubbed his calves. Which was really nice, because now that he was in the later months of this pregnancy, his leg muscles had started cramping quite a bit. 

 

Behind the living room, he could hear Cersa bustling about in the kitchen, kind of cleaning up the mess her cousins had left behind. The ones who had stayed to help had already tackled most of it, but now they were watching the movie with Mark, hanging out on the furniture, sitting on the arms of the couch, or even laying on the floor in front of him. If Cersa minded though, she didn’t say anything. 

 

“So I feel like this might be a dumb question, considering the company I’m in.” Mark spoke up, watching as five sets of mermaid eyes flicked towards him. “But why specifically all  _ The Little Mermaid _ stuff?” he asked. “There’s other versions besides the Disney one.” he pointed out. 

 

“And other depictions of sirens in pop culture, yes.” Calypso nodded, as she gave special attention to one of Mark’s toes. “But this is the kid friendly one.” She said. “It’s her heritage, come on. Her real life uncle is in it.” 

 

“Yeah, and I don’t think she needs to know too early on what we usually do all day.”  Clio spoke up.

 

“Which is…?” Mark invited.

 

“Lure men to their deaths in order to steal their treasures?” Thaleia spoke up.

 

Calypso shot her a look. “Not so much anymore.” She said pretty pointedly.

 

“Speak for yourself.” Cersa replied, as she finally re-entered the living room. “If I was anywhere near the ocean these days, I’d be doing that all day long.” 

 

“Get a boring 9 to 5 in a dustball town?” Ianassa suggested, harking back to the earlier question. “Like Cersa?”

 

Cersa gave her cousin a dirty look. “My job isn’t boring.” She defended. “I just wanted to live in a place where the gun laws were looser, okay?” 

 

Mark hummed a little, looking to Cersa. “You have a mermaid form?” He asked her, watching as the woman nodded. “How come you’ve never shown me?” He asked her.

 

“Well I was under the understanding that Kaz’s freaked you out.” Cersa told him. “So I never offered. But yes, just like he has a mermaid form, I do too. Your daughter?” She continued. “Don’t be surprised if she has one too. It’s a possibility.” 

 

“Really?” Mark made a bit of a face at that. “Is she gonna pop out of there like…” 

 

“No no.” Calypso put in. “If she does, it probably won’t begin to show until she’s a couple years old. At least.” 

 

“Hey, not to change the topic or anything…” Thaleia spoke up, bringing the conversation to a halt as she pointed out the handsome prince on the screen. “But don’t ya’ll think that Kasmilos kind of looks like Prince Eric?” 

 

“Oh girl.” Calypso sighed, and most of the cousins responded similarly, with a good amount of eye rolling thrown in.

 

“Shut up.” Clio said, leaning over to kick her sister. 

 

“I don’t see it.” Mark answered too, as he finished off his juice obnoxiously, crushing the box and dropping it onto the coffee table.

 

The front door swung open then and Damien entered, looking considerably drier than he did that morning. He glanced over to the group crowding around the TV and sighed. “I was hoping to miss the rest of this nightmare.” he said. 

 

“Oh, calm down.” Cersa told him. “Most of the girls have left for home, and everyone’s behaving themselves.”

 

“Yeah.” Clio spoke up, the dark haired mermaid leaned over, kind of obviously looking Damien up and down. “You should come behave next to me.” 

 

“I really don’t have the time.” Damien told her. “Not even trying to be offensive or anything. I honestly don’t have time.” 

 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going back out already. You only just came back this morning.” Cersa protested. “You’re going to drive yourself to exhaustion.”

 

“For one. I have no choice.” Damien told her firmly. “Who else is in any condition to handle this? Virgil needs to stay here to protect Mark, and you need to be here to guide him through this pregnancy.” Damien pointed out.  

 

Mark wasn’t sure he meant to do it, but Damien instantly had the attention of every siren in that room. 

 

“You can’t keep this up Damien.” Cersa told him, as she pushed herself up off of the couch. It was something that Mark had noticed, that Cersa preferred to be standing when she was getting ready to argue with someone.

 

“I can do anything.” Damien corrected her.

 

Cersa frowned. “Well I’m not calling you a liar.” She said. “But I’m afraid for you if you keep up this pace.” 

 

“What are you trying to do?” Calypso finally spoke up, from her position on the floor. “Does it have something to do with Kasmilos?” She asked. 

 

Damien glanced to her. “Have you been made any kind of aware of the situation?” He asked her. 

 

Calypso levelled him with a look that probably told him everything he needed to know. “We’re all aware of what has happened to him.” She said. “What I’m foggy on is how it happened, and how you driving out into the desert is going to help him.” She said. 

 

Damien shrugged. “Well he was cursed.” He told her. “I’ve been driving out there every couple of weeks to try and find the weapon that did it. I fear it might be the only thing that’ll wake him.” He said.

 

“Is that true?” Calypso asked, looking over to Cersa. 

 

“If there was anything I could have done to wake him, I’d have done it already.” Cersa said. “That’s the last thing, I’m hinging all my bets on it.” She said. “Finding that damn thing could be the only hope he has left.” 

 

Damien sighed. “But I’m not going to just sit here and wait for him to die, not when there’s something I can do.”

 

“Well, what about us?” Calypso asked then, looking between her sisters. “Show us what you’ve done, and we could go look.” She offered. “You’d just have to stay here and look after Mark.” 

 

“I hate the desert, but he is my cousin. Guess I should do something.” Ianassa spoke up. 

 

Damien glanced around the room, as a chorus of little mermaid heads began to nod along with this plan. “I’ve been searching this desert for months.” He pointed out. “You really think five mermaids are going to be able to do what I haven’t?” he asked, skeptical.

 

“Excuse you?” Calypso said, moving to get to her feet. Mark kind of tugged himself back to give her room to rage. “Do you even know who we are? What we do?” She asked. “What we’ve been doing for centuries?” She asked him. 

 

Damien blinked. “I mean…” 

 

Clio stood up next. She needed a moment to adjust her cat ears, but then she too was levelling an irritated glance at Damien. “Just tell us where this stupid desert is and what we’re looking for.” She said. “We’ll fucking show you.” 

 

Damien wordlessly studied the girls. “I mean I wasn’t saying it to be insulting, I’m just saying…” 

 

“Just shut up and give us your research old man.” Calypso replied, snapping her fingers at him impatiently. Damien narrowed his eyes at her briefly, before finally shrugging. 

 

“Fine.” He said. “Come with me.”

 

Mark sank back into the couch as the mermaids left his side. Seeing that he was alone but for Cersa, he reached out for the remote and stopped the movie, giving a bit of a relieved sigh.

 

Cersa snickered a little as she moved over to him. “Getting tired of the Disney movies?” She asked him.

 

“If I had to listen to ‘Part of Your World’ one more time…” Mark trailed off a bit. 

 

“I know, I know.” Cersa said, as she sank into the couch beside him. 

 

Mark looked to her for a long moment. “Do you think they’ll really be able to help Milo?” he asked her softly, and she shrugged.

 

“Maybe?” She said. “Mermaids tend to be good treasure hunters. They might have a fin up on the situation.” 

 

“Har har.” Mark mocked her for her terrible pun. “I just…” Mark paused, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought things over. “I just want him back.” he finally admitted. “You and your cousins have been incredibly supportive and I appreciate that. But it’s just not the same. I need him here. I need him to know his kid, to see her grow up.” He said. “I’m trying to stay positive about things but it’s been weighing so heavily on my mind.” 

 

Cersa nodded. “I know.” She assured him. “I want the same.” She said. “I mean he’s my brother. He’s always kind of been our defender. For all that he’s annoyed me for over the years… I miss seeing his stupid face.” She shook her head. “Honestly it’s because of you that he started coming around again in the first place. So we all owe you for that.” She said. 

 

Mark nodded, because he was sort of aware of that. “Yeah… I wouldn’t let him isolate himself.” Mark said, and Cersa seemed to agree. 

 

“It was nice. Getting to see him again.” She said, and her tone as almost… sad.

 

Cersa grabbed the remote and began to surf through the channels, trying to find something appropriate for herself and Mark to watch. After a while, the remaining sirens left and it was just Mark, Damien and Cersa still at the house. Damien finally returned to the living room, sinking down onto the couch on Mark’s other side. 

 

Mark glanced over to Damien. “Where’s Virgil?” he asked.

 

Damien shrugged. “He’ll be back tomorrow, I should think.” He assured Mark. 

 

“What did you do with him?” Mark asked, sinking against the couch so that he could rest his head against its back. 

 

Damien cast him an amused glance. “Why did you say it like that?” he asked. “It’s not like I cursed him and left him in some godforsaken forest.” he shrugged. “I bought him a Harley, and I sent him to Houston to break it in.” Damien said, stretching out leisurely. 

 

“You bought him a Harley?” Mark asked, impressed. 

 

Damien nodded. “Told him to take it to Houston for a few hours, and take it right back to the dealership for the first oil change.” He said. “Cause I’m not fucking around you know? Trying to remember dates and shit. We’ll get that all done with tomorrow.” 

 

“Damn.” Mark said. “I still kind of wish I’d gone with you guys.” 

 

“You’re seven months pregnant.” Cersa pointed out to him. “You have trouble keeping your balance going to the bathroom. You’re not getting on the back of a motorcycle and driving anywhere.”

 

“Well I know all of that.” Mark said pointedly, shooting her a look. “But I’m guy. We like that kind of thing. Engines purring and girls staring at your ride.” 

 

“Right, gotta let the boys do stupid shit.” Cersa said, stretching out a little. “I’m going to bed. You guys can drool over engines and whatever it is you want to do. Get the lights when you come in, Mark.” 

 

“You gonna put on actual clothes?” Mark asked her. Because he’d seen her nearly fall out of that little maid outfit numerous times that day and it was beginning to get a little disturbing. Hot. But disturbing. 

 

“It’s hot tonight, I’m gonna sleep nude.” Cersa told him with a grin. 

 

“You fucking.” Mark sighed, closing his eyes. “My hormones can’t take this shit!” He told her. He could barely reach his dick to jerk off properly anymore, and there was his goddamn sister in law bouncing around in a barely there maid’s outfit.

 

“Have mercy on the poor man, he still has two months more to suffer through.” Damien came to his defense. Cersa simply waved them off as she made her way to the master bedroom.

 

**Thirty-Three Weeks** \- Baby is About the Size of a Pineapple

 

It had been a long, long time since he’d been in one of these nightmares. It seemed like they’d slowed down right around the time Cersa told him he was pregnant. They were always in the same place. That godforsaken desert, overlooking that godforsaken canyon. At his feet lay the shallow remains of an empty grave. A grave that had been dug for him, and had never been used.

 

Mark glanced down curiously, and saw that in the dream he wasn’t still pregnant. It was a thought that really amped up his anxiety. The idea of going through all of the struggles of being pregnant just to lose his baby? Now that was a nightmare. Once he calmed down a little, though, he realized it might actually make sense for her not to be there. This was his own personal hell, these nightmares. Why would she be there to share the dream?

 

He was very quickly distracted from that thought by the sound of a familiar voice.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally managed to evade my grasp for good. Makes me wonder who’s been protecting you...”

 

Mark slowly, carefully wrapped his arms around himself. It felt bitterly cold in this place, and even more so knowing that man was standing somewhere behind him. He heard the man’s dark laughter echoing through the space. “You don’t fucking look at me when I’m talking to you?” 

 

Mark stood defiantly in place, until he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, just as he was whipped around and forced to face the man. 

 

Bael looked completely fucked, he always had since Cersa had cast her necromancer spell on him. She took him apart, put him back together, and he carried over the residual damages from that encounter in this ethereal place. He was a broken shell of a human. Or, well. Mark understood that he was never really human. There were cracks in his skin, betraying the nasty, deep gashes laying underneath. There were a few careless stitches here and there, places where Cersa got sloppy in putting him back together. Milo had been right about that. Cutting him up while he was dead was one thing. Having this shambling, reanimated corpse harassing him was infinitely worse.

 

“You act like there’s something to look at.” Mark said, shrugging out of Bael’s hold, uncaring of the damage it did to himself when he did. “Milo’s bigger than you, anyway.” He said. 

 

“You fall back on the dick insults way too quickly.” Bael decided, reaching out for him. Mark had long since learned that it was pointless to run, and just as pointless to try and fight. All he could really do was put up with the abuse until Milo noticed his distress and woke him, but without Milo there, what could he do?

 

Mark hissed a little as Bael grabbed him, the man’s claws sinking into vulnerable flesh, whipping him around and shoving him into the grave he’d dug. It was all fairly routine at this point. Mark had had these nightmares for a full year, before he’d gotten pregnant. The demon had abused and raped him in a countless number of ways. Mark wasn’t quite immune to it, but he was pretty keenly aware of how broken he felt whenever he’d had them. Emotionally, and sometimes physically. It always made him cringe to have Milo notice some small bump or bruise that had been a pretty severe injury in the dream.

 

This time, Bael seemed to have more purpose to his torture. Mark watched, just like he’d done countless times over, as the demon settled over him. Kicking his legs apart to settle between them, performing the motion so easily, like the demon owned him. Right then, Mark supposed he did. Bael placed his hand over Mark’s throat, long nails poised threateningly to slash across a major artery. Mark never tried to give into these games that Bael played, but this time the threat gave him pause. Back in the real world, he had a child who was still very dependent on him to survive. He kept incredibly still, knowing that if he moved the wrong way it would not only hurt himself, it could hurt his baby too.

 

“It’s been so, so long.” Bael said, tipping his head to the side, as he began to squeeze. “And we have so much to catch up on.” Mark took in a short breath while he still could, before the man could really begin to strangle him, tightening his fist about his throat. This was a new game, and Mark was terrified of it hurting his child. “Who has been keeping you from me…?” The demon demanded. 

 

“I…” Mark had to stop, pausing to catch his breath as he struggled to get the words out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He finally got out with a loud gasp.

 

Bael hummed, as he began to squeeze much harder. Mark’s vision began to grow grey at the edges, and he couldn’t help the panic that raced through him. He should have known better, honestly. Everytime he began to think he’d gone numb to the abuse, Bael would come up with something new to torture him.

 

“Someone has been keeping you from me. It was only tonight that I’ve been able to get through their defenses…” he said. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? Like they’re getting tired, and finally beginning to slip up. Their power is growing weaker.” 

 

Mark had to wonder at this information, which was complete news to him. Who was protecting him from Bael? Who did he know who would even have that kind of power? His first thoughts went to Damien, but Mark had never actually told him about his nightmares. Since they’d backed off when he had gotten pregnant, he’d had no reason to tell him, either. So if it wasn’t Damien… then who could it be?

 

But then Bael began to squeeze his throat harder for his quiet, and Mark panicked again, thinking of the baby.

 

“I don’t know!” He said, trying to press Bael back. “I don’t know.” He insisted, panting, hard. “Please…” He begged the other man softly. Sometimes, Mark had found, when he became submissive, Bael would take it easier on him. It didn’t know if that strategy played on his ego or what, but for a moment, it seemed like it had worked. Bael slowly began to release his neck, moving to draw his fingers down its side instead.

 

“Well, perhaps you really don’t know.” Bael cooed at him. “Maybe I’m just frustrated because it’s been so, so long since I’ve had you. All that time, cooped up alone, in the box, with nothing to look forward to, until you fall asleep. Only to have you slip out of my grasp...” Bael told him. “I suppose the isolation is enough to make anyone insane.”

 

Bael sunk his claws into Mark again, in his face, gripping the man’s chin. “I don’t know who has been guarding you, but I promise you. I will give them pain like they’ve never known…” He ducked in close, licking the side of Mark’s cheek. Long, slow, and leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Mark shivered in disgust.

 

“Truth be told, I’ve missed you, Mark. I miss the games that we’d play. I miss leaving my loving marks upon your tender flesh.” He whispered, his voice a warm vibrato against his ear, drawing a fearful whimper from the man laying beneath him. “I miss taking you in a place that I know Kasmilos can never reach. In a world he could never protect you from.” He continued. “The last place you’re truly mine.” Bael said, directing his tongue over the shell of Mark’s ear. “You have to understand that this place isn’t going to contain me forever.” he said. “One of these days… I’m going to break free.” 

 

“You keep saying that.” Mark panted, as he tried to pull away, despite himself, despite knowing how it won’t do him any good. Any kind of distance would have been fine. “But you’re still here.” 

 

“Biding my time.” Bael informed him, as one clawed hand traveled along his face, one claw digging at his bottom lip, gently prying it open, so that he could press that threatening finger inside, pinning his tongue to the soft palate beneath. “And you know very well what I most like to do, to pass time…” 

 

Mark closed his eyes, tried to will himself awake. This was usually when Milo would notice. Mark would begin thrashing in real life, and the other man would be quick to save him. But Mark realized that there was no help coming, not anytime soon, not with Milo out of commission. 

 

Then, Mark heard Bael yelp, and felt something like a breeze as the demon was abruptly pulled away. Mark’s eyes quickly snapped open and he scrambled, as fast as he could, out of that grave. 

 

When Mark was able he stood, turning to see what happened but he saw nothing there. Just Bael writhing in agony from some unseen force. That shouldn’t have been as gratifying as it was. Mark watched as flames began to flicker, starting beneath his fingernails, and moving along the skin of his hands and arms. It reached his shoulders, his neck, his hair lit up. 

 

Bael cast scared, flaming eyes in his direction. Mark watched him cautiously, taking a step back. The last thing he wanted was to get burnt. Then the demon began to shift in his direction, one arm outstretched to grab him, desperate to save himself. Mark shifted backwards in a stumbling panic, only to be caught, an oddly familiar pair of arms wrapping around him. His own. As Mark glanced up he recognized the demon who’d caught him in hell, the one wearing his face. As Mark glanced up at the other man, confused, he was set upright. 

 

As Bael burned to ash in front of him, the man, his clone, finally looked down to him. His face,  _ his _ face, was almost entirely unreadable. Mark reached up. He couldn’t help himself, pressing a hand to that face. It was him. But it was wrong. He couldn’t even really say why it was wrong. 

 

“I promised you, didn’t I?” He asked.

 

“What did you promise?” Mark demanded, voice soft as he dropped his hand. He was just so tired. Tired and hurt. He desperately wanted to leave this place. 

 

The  _ thing _ wearing his face finally broke out into a grin. “That you would have nothing to fear again.” He said, finally, gently releasing Mark. 

 

Mark quickly shifted away, turning to face the other man. Doppelganger. Whatever he was. 

 

“It’s time to wake up.” It said.

 

~~

 

“Careful. Careful.” 

 

Mark blinked his eyes open, only to realize that he’d been standing in the middle of the hallway, close to the living room where Virgil would typically be sleeping. Only, Virgil wasn’t there, Mark remembered. Virgil was out on a job. He clearly remembered saying goodbye to the man. (Before he took off on his motorcycle, the bitch.) 

 

Once he woke up a little bit more Mark realized it was Damien who was speaking to him. He’d placed both hands on his shoulders, and he was very carefully, very gently, shaking him awake. 

 

Mark blinked for a moment, his eyes locking onto Damien’s blue.

 

Seeing that he was awake, Damien seemed to relax for a second. “You were having a bad dream, huh?” Damien asked, as he slid one of his hands from Mark’s shoulder slowly, carefully down his arm. 

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah I was.” Mark replied, feeling a little sheepish that he’d been caught like that. “What was I, sleep-walking?” He asked.

 

Damien nodded. “Yeah. Just out of curiosity, Mark, you have a history of sleepwalking?” The man asked. “Of wandering around and doing odd things while you’re asleep?” he asked. 

 

Mark shook his head. “No.” He said, looking on in confusion as Damien continued to run his hand along Mark’s arm, eventually taking his wrist. Damien held him still for a second until he could press his fingers against Mark’s palm.

 

Mark realized then that both of his hands had been curled into a tight fist,, but he was clutching tightly onto something in his right. Damien gave that hand a squeeze so that he could release whatever it was he was clenching so firmly. Damien was quick to take that it and… and Mark gasped, stumbling back when he saw the sharp knife that’s he’d apparently taken from the kitchen.

 

Damien took the knife without so much as a nervous look or second thought. “Thank you.” he said, finally moving away from Mark, and pulling forward a cutting board with a pink apple on it, that he’d apparently set out earlier.

 

“I think you’re going to want to have a seat.” Damien told him, as he began to cut the apple into manageable slices. 

 

Mark glanced around the kitchen for a moment, spying a stool by the island, and quickly grabbing that. Once he was seated, Damien continued his work. 

 

“Tell me about the nightmare.” Damien requested, as he worked with the knife. 

 

Mark sighed a little. “There isn’t much to tell.” He said. There was a reason he’d never bothered to tell anyone, not even Milo.

 

“Mark.” Damien said firmly, getting the man’s attention. “I am an old wizard, who has been around the block for ages.” He explained. “I know when I’m being lied to.” 

 

Mark gave him a look. “There’s really nothing to say.” he insisted, after a moment. 

 

“Hm, really?” Damien asked, as he went to slide a few of the apple slices in Mark’s direction, clearly meaning for Mark to eat them. Mark didn’t feel particularly hungry, but he grabbed a couple of slices anyways.. “If it was so simple as it being just a dream, you wouldn’t have those bruises on your neck right now.” 

 

“Shit, really?” Mark asked, clapping a hand to the side of his neck. Sure enough, he could feel the marks Bael had left behind, slowly beginning to form into what was going to be a pattern of very visible bruises later. “That rat-fucking bastard.” Mark cursed. 

 

Damien hummed softly, resting his elbows on the counter. “Now who did that?” He asked, voice dark and contemplative. 

 

Mark sighed a little as he pulled his hand away, placing it flat on the counter. “I’ve been having these dreams.” Mark finally began, deciding to tell him the whole story. “Well, I don’t know if they’re really dreams. I’ve had them… felt like every other day for a while.” He said. “You remember what we did to Bael, right?” He said, waiting for Damien to nod. “Right. He started coming to me in my dreams. Nightmares.” he said. “But he was broken. Angry. Violent.” Mark breathed out, closing his eyes for a second, as he moved to wipe a hand over his face. 

 

“I take it these encounters never ended well.” Damien said, as he went to wash the knife and put it back in the rack.

 

“No.” Mark told him. He wiped his hands over his face, before dropping them back to his lap. Just making the admission forced tears to prick behind his eyelids, and the last thing he wanted was to start bawling in front of Damien.

 

If Damien noticed the emotion in his tone, he didn’t comment on it, and Mark actually found that helpful. “Did you ever carry any marks or anything from these encounters before?” Damien asked. “Or is this the first time?” He questioned.

 

“No, this isn’t the first time.” Mark frowned. “He liked to have his fun. Turned it into a game.” Mark closed his eyes against the concerned look Damien gave him at that. That was one of the reasons Mark kept things to himself. He didn’t want people feeling sorry for him, or worrying over him. “Milo would see them sometimes, and he’d ask. Then the challenge was to make a believable excuse.” Mark laughed drily. “He would get so angry, thinking someone was hurting me…” He trailed off. “But then I stopped having them. For a really long time.” he said, looking to Damien. “Right around the time I got pregnant.”

 

“Until tonight.” Damien stated, and Mark nodded. 

 

“Bael said someone was protecting me.” he said. “And he wanted to know who. And then…” Mark glanced back to Damien. “I saw them.” 

 

Damien looked to him. “Who?” He asked.

 

“There was someone else.” Mark said. “I’ve been seeing them, off and on, after my trip to hell.” Mark said. “Just… out of the corner of my eye. In the shadows, or in the mirror. Like my reflection would be warped.”

 

“Ah.” Damien said, and it looked to Mark like something in that detail had clicked with him. “That ‘crowded’ feeling you had, when I returned your soul to you?” He asked. Mark’s eyes widened a little.

 

“So that thing. That thing I’ve been seeing? That looks like me, but the reflection is weird?” Mark went on. “I brought that back with me? That’s what you’re telling me?” 

 

Damien nodded. “Sounds like it.” He said. “What happened while you were in hell, anyways? I don’t think I ever asked.” 

 

Mark sighed crossing his arms over his chest. “Now that… that is a whole other story.” He said, looking to Damien. 

 

“It’s 2 am.” Damien pointed out. “Neither of us has anywhere to be, and I’m listening.” he said.

 

Mark bit his lip for a moment. “I ran into a girl.” 

 

“That is my favorite start to any story.” Damien teased. Mark shot him a look.

 

“Not like a girl. I mean, it was like a kid. She was looking for her father. I don’t know if he’d died or what.” He said, and he enjoyed the look of disappointment on Damien’s face. “She and I ended up kind of travelling together for a while. She helped me to get past Cerberus. She had magic hair, and a demon tricked her into…” Mark frowned for a second. “He tricked her into poisoning me. I remember that.” Mark said.

 

“How did she poison you?” Damien asked. 

 

“She had this little bag of fruit…” 

 

“And you ate it.” Damien sighed. “Mark, you’re not supposed to eat anything in Hell.  _ Anything _ .” 

 

“Well shit, you didn’t tell me that.” Mark pointed out. “How was I supposed to know?” 

 

“What did you eat?” Damien asked. 

 

“You mean, specifically?” Mark figured. “Couple pieces of apple, a few grapes… these pomegranate seeds…” 

 

“Pomegranate. There it is.” Damien said, straightening up a little. “Well, you’re fucked.”

 

“Thanks.” Mark rolled his eyes. “What did the pomegranate do?” He asked.

 

“Pomegranate is sacred in the Underworld.” Damien told him. “You’ve essentially bound your soul there forever. You’ve made yourself a vessel for whatever creature came up here with you.” 

 

“Okay. Wonderful.” Mark kind of ground his teeth a little. “But what do I do about that?” He asked.

 

“Well.” Damien said, thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the counter. “How did the dream end?” Damien pushed him to continue.

 

Mark tipped his head to the side, thinking it over. “My evil twin showed up out of nowhere and burnt the ever loving shit out of Bael.” 

 

“Deservedly.” Damien nodded. “Well, here’s my suggestion.” He said, pressing his hands on the counter and leaning over it, moving in until he was very, very dangerously close to treading into Mark’s personal space bubble. “Don’t do anything.” 

 

Mark blinked. “That’s it?” He asked.

 

Damien nodded. “Not a damn thing.”

 

“Now wait a minute.” Mark said. “You basically just confirmed that I’m being… possessed?” He said, unsure if that was the right word for it.

 

“Yes.” Damien nodded. 

 

“And you want me to just what… leave him there?” Mark asked, wondering if Damien had lost his mind.

 

“Leave him be.” Damien continued. “He’s protecting you from Bael, and aside from the cheap horror movie jumpscares, he’s just kind of minding his own business. So don’t do anything.” 

 

“I…” Mark looked to him. “But isn’t that going to cause me problems in the future?” 

 

Damien shrugged. “Probably. Well, honestly yes.” Damien said. “The demon obviously wants control of your body. That would be why he’s wearing your face like a bad Halloween costume.” Damien said. “For whatever reason he wants you as a vessel. But aside from these random appearances and occasional glimpses into hell, what is he doing?”

 

Mark shrugged a little. “I guess nothing?” He tried. 

 

“And that’s what I’m telling you to do.” Damien said. “Do nothing. Leave it alone. I’ve seen enough people die in exorcisms that I can tell you that it’s not worth it. If you don’t have to” He said. 

 

“But isn’t it a problem that it wants to eventually take over? I mean we don’t even know why it wants that…” Mark said.

 

“Well, when it does, we’ll know.” Damien said. “Look, I’ve been dealing with these beings basically all my life. When he does decide to play his hand…” Damien gestured in Mark’s direction, flipping his hand towards him in a circular motion. “We’ll be…  _ I’ll _ be ready.” He said.

 

“That doesn’t really sound all that good.” Mark said. “I’m not comforted by this.” 

 

“Well, why don’t you sleep on things.” Damien said. “I’ll bet you’d feel better after a good night’s rest.” 

 

Mark snorted. “You trying to be funny?” He asked. He was exhausted though. He’d been kind of getting more and more tired as this pregnancy went on. And especially after tonight, he knew it was just going to get worse.

 

“No, I’m trying to help you.” Damien said. “There isn’t much I can do control where your dreams go, but I can block you from having them.” He said.

 

“Yes.” Mark said instantly. 

 

Damien stood back a little, clearly surprised. He didn’t even get to do his whole salesman schtick, and seeing him caught off-guard like that was terribly funny to Mark. “Oh.” Damien said. “You didn’t even want to hear the pros and cons…?”

 

“Nope. Do the thing. Make with the dream blocking.” Mark told him.

 

“I…” Damien shook his head. “Okay.” He finally said. He reached out, gently pressing his fingers to the sides of Mark’s head. Something seemed to flash behind his eyes, and Damien moved away after. “Okay.” he said again. “There you go.” he said.

 

“Finally.” Mark said, relieved. He pushed off of the stool, moving to pull Damien into a grateful hug. “Thanks dad.”

 

“I- Don’t… call me that?” Damien tried, as Mark moved away. “See you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything else to add down here for now, lmao. But like. Anyone want to see the [snake](https://www.instagram.com/p/BwfRuW6AyG0/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet) that almost bit me a couple weeks ago? Like you know that shit stayed with me if I'm putting it into the story a few weeks later. Idk why his name is Pedro. It was the first thing that came to mind in my panic, lmao.
> 
> Wait no I remember. I joked in the middle of this fic in the mermaid party (honestly I just needed to break this chapter up with something silly) that Milo looks like Prince Eric. That's because his FC is literally always playing Prince Eric to literally anyone's Ariel. To the point that he himself says that he's contractually obligated to always say yes when someone asks him to be their Prince Eric. THAT'S THE JOKE


	12. Drag Me to the Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry this took so long, oh my god. See I posted the last chapter a few days before my final, so I needed time for that. Then I had to get my shit together for the summer session, that took another week. I was able to work on this but not for very much until this weekend. And well. I hope you all understand why this took so fucking long. 
> 
> I do have a warning for this chapter, I consider this a part of the spoilers, so you can go down there if you would like.
> 
> I'm so glad this chapter is done, and I'm thinking that the next one may be the last chapter for this story. 
> 
> Then I gotta work on those one shots and the sequels, haha.

**Thirty-Nine Weeks** \- Baby is About the Size of a Small Watermelon

 

She was literally hanging onto a rib in there, Mark was sure that’s what his kid was still doing in there. He began having daily appointments with the doctor as these later weeks began to pass by, since they wouldn’t be able to tell by dilation whether or not she was ready to pop, despite the fact that his body, rather annoyingly, had been going through the practice contractions already. But apparently he hadn’t actually started going through true labor, yet. They’d been checking the girl’s position by sonogram, and at his last appointment, earlier that morning, the doctor looked at it, shrugged, and told him. “She could wait another week.”

 

_ Another. Fucking. Week. _

 

He half wanted to demand that they get her out now but fortunately, Cersa noted his irritation and gently extolled to him the benefits of waiting. After that he finally settled down. 

 

So he wasn’t in a terribly good mood when they got back. He was quiet when he greeted Virgil, passed by him, and went into the bedroom and closed the door. The other day, Damien and Virgil had spent about an hour putting the crib together (and arguing about what went where while they did it). Once they’d accomplished that, Cersa had dressed it up with the Little Mermaid sheets they’d gotten at the baby shower. So that was ready, whenever he was allowed to bring her home. (Honestly, it had better be tomorrow, because he was just so tired of being pregnant.) 

 

They had the carseat figured out and it was waiting in Damien’s car. (Which he grumbled about, but everyone was in agreement that neither Cersa’s truck nor Virgil’s motorcycle were appropriate rides for a newborn.) They had a veritable mountain of diapers, bottles, formula. They’d packed an overnight bag with Cersa’s help. They didn’t have a real nursery, because Mark couldn’t go home just yet, and there didn’t seem to be a point in setting up any further. Because after all of this, yeah, Mark was just gonna want to take Milo and the baby go home. (This was, of course, assuming everything was going to end happily. Right then, he just couldn’t say for sure.) 

 

So with nothing further to do or prepare for, Mark decided he was just going to lay down for a bit. Now that he was in the last weeks of this pregnancy, even simple things had the power to exhaust him. Even though the ride back and forth from the clinic didn’t require he move a whole hell of a lot, he still felt completely wiped out. So Mark stole Cersa’s pillow and the remote that she kept near to the nightstand. After setting himself up so that he was supported, he turned on the TV for background noise and eventually fell asleep. 

 

When he woke up a little later, he had Daphnis pressed to his back. Which was better than trying to lay across his hip or stomach or whatever number of things he would try to do before Cersa would scream at him. Daphnis was warm. It was cold out. (Although that could have just been him. He’d been a little sensitive to temperature changes lately.) He decided he probably needed to be awake for a few hours, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have anything he could be doing. Instead of getting a jump on that though, he ended up rolling onto his back next to Daphnis and just pet the little black-hearted thing until he could elicit some purring out of it. 

 

A couple of minutes later, he glanced up at a knock on the door. Virgil entered a second or so later, without waiting for Mark to prompt him. He paused, seeing the position Mark was laying in.

 

“Hey.” Mark said to him, voice heavy with sleep.

 

“Hey.” Virgil said. “Cersa sent me to come check on you, see if you needed anything.” He said. “You probably shouldn’t sleep like that…” He said, moving over to Mark’s side, planning on helping him if need be.

 

“I wasn’t.” Mark assured him quickly. “I just woke up. I was going to go find something to do, but Daphnis was here and he was warm… he makes it really easy to be lazy.” 

 

Virgil smiled a little at that. “I think after dealing with all of this it should be fine to work in a nap every once in a while. Do you want to take a walk?”

 

Well, no, Mark was pretty fucking tired. But he was so, so desperate to kick off the process of labor that he nodded, and began to push himself up right. “Yes.” He said, kind of pathetically, offering his hands to Virgil. Mark was so heavy these days he was sort of glad he’d swallowed his pride earlier on and let people help him. Because right now, he actually did need the help. Just getting up took a toll on his knees and his balance overall. 

 

Virgil was quick to support Mark, taking his arm and leading him outside. They did this from time to time since he hit the 38th week, to try and help Mark go into labor. It wasn’t too intensive, just go outside and do a couple of laps around the pool. And yet, his daughter (...he should probably be thinking about a serious name for her soon) was continuing to stubbornly hang out. Avoiding life. Well, it wasn’t like he could blame her, sometimes life scared the shit out of him too, but she needed to come out and face things like the rest of humanity at some point. You can’t avoid it forever.

 

“How are you feeling today?” Virgil asked him curiously. Mark looked over to Virgil. He knew the other man had been doing all kinds of googling on the topic, and a lot of the questions he had were for comparison to what he had read. Which was fine, most of the time. Except for the times when Virgil would admit to something else he’d been reading about that would send Mark into something of a panic, and Cersa would have to shut it down. But this question was innocent enough.

 

“Tired.” Mark admitted after a moment. “Just really tired.” 

 

Virgil nodded. He didn’t look all that surprised. “Do you want to just circle the pool once today, then? Rest up for… whenever she decides to come out.” 

 

Mark shook his head. “No, I feel like all I’ve done lately is rest. I’m getting a little stir-crazy, I think.” He said, looking to Virgil. “I know I’m seriously tired of being pregnant. But it’s more than that. I feel like I’ve kind of been confined here, you know?” He said to Virgil. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful or anything, that’s not it at all. I appreciate everything you and Damien and Cersa have done. I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go home.” he said. “And it would be nice, if this little girl would stop stalling and get a move on things already, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about  _ that _ anymore.” he said, frowning a little at his belly. “That’s another thing, I miss seeing my toes.” he said, tipping his head to the side a little, like that would somehow improve his view.

 

Virgil gave him a sympathetic look. “Well you’re in the homestretch now, buddy. Just hang in there.”

 

“Oh, I’m hanging.” Mark said. “I just wish she wouldn’t.”

 

“Still haven’t thought of a name, then?” Virgil asked him airily.

 

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Mark sighed. “I’ve kind of already anthropomorphized the shit out of her, but you know. The little characterizations I give her they’re just… you know, silly impersonations. How do you name a kid before you really know them? I don’t really know what her personality is, yet. Well, other than the fact that she likes kicking me in my lungs and ignoring me. We’re getting a jumpstart on those sassy pre-teenage years.” he noted.

 

Virgil snickered at that. “She can’t technically reach your lungs.” Virgil pointed out. 

 

“Well she’s doing something to them. Makes me gasp and go all grey eyed sometimes.” Mark said. “No, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong, she’s reaching out of the womb, grabbing them and giving them a firm shake to put me in my place. That’s what she’s doing.” he said. 

 

“Hm. How many weeks grounded is she, then, or have you stopped keeping track?” Virgil asked him.

 

“Until she’s thirty. I don’t think she’s technically reached that long with her short list of offenses thus far, but if I can keep her home well past that age where she’s going to want to date…” Mark trailed off. “Boys or girls, it doesn’t matter, I just don’t want her dating.” Mark decided.

 

“Ah. Brilliant.” Virgil grinned again. “You love her already. I can tell.” 

 

“Honestly.” Mark said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m pretty sure I’ve loved her since I first knew she was there.” He said. “Even when I was cursing out Cersa…. I kinda knew.” 

 

Virgil nodded, as he continued to walk with Mark around the pool. They did a couple of laps, before it, oddly enough, began to turn grey out. Well, it was winter now, so maybe it did make sense for it to get a little bit stormy, being that they were technically in a desert. So it wasn’t supposed to storm up quite as often but that didn’t mean that it never happened. Mark finally paused, looking up as the storm began to pick up dust. 

 

“Is it a haboob?” Mark asked Virgil. They’d had one a few weeks before. The first time he heard Cersa use that word his brain kind of short-circuited, because it just sounded so funny. Now it was his favorite word.

 

Virgil didn’t pay his enthusiasm too much mind though, as he too was studying the storm. “No.” He finally said at length. “But I think we should really get back inside the house…” 

 

There was a crack of lightning that sounded like it struck terribly close. Close enough that Virgil actually tried to grab Mark, pull him into some kind of shielding hold, but neither of them could see where the threat was coming from. After a moment, they didn’t really have time to wonder anymore, because it began to pour. Hard. 

 

“Shit.” Virgil said out loud.

 

“Kind of weird that things are picking up like this.” Mark noted, tensely. Or maybe not so weird. They were in a desert. When storms hit they hit very hard. But to both men something was obviously very wrong here. 

 

_ Hey, give it back! _

 

Mark paused, thinking he was hearing voices on the wind. He turned to look for the source of them. Virgil saw the way Mark was reacting, and he tried to tug him in, worried. “What is it?” Virgil asked.

 

“I thought I heard som-”

 

_ It doesn’t belong to you- _

 

_ -will make a ladder out of your spine! _

 

That last one was shortly followed by the sound of a loud, thunderous boom, but Mark didn’t think it was a part of the storm. It was so unnatural sounding. Like a car crash, or a train wreck. 

 

That’s when the hail picked up. Dumping tiny pellets of ice on the two men. Virgil made a strangled noise, as he tried to shield Mark.

 

Mark grabbed onto Virgil’s arms as he listened. The man was doing his solid best to be noble but Mark was trying to do something here. “Wait, I think I hear-”

 

The downpour of hail condensed, until all you could see was a stream of ice, and out from it stepped Calypso, looking harried. The hail let up immediately, and Mark kind of realized what was going on. Like Milo needed to be in water to transport himself someplace, Cersa had to create some kind of weather pattern, for her to do the same.

 

Mark wasn’t nearly as surprised as Virgil at this point. “Rough day?” Mark questioned. 

 

“About to get rougher.” Calypso answered, as she reached out for Mark. She checked him over quickly, like she was worried her hail had hurt him, but she backed off when he seemed fine. “What are the two of you doing, get him in the house!” She demanded of Virgil.

 

“Nope, tell me what’s going on first.” Mark demanded, stepping away from the other man. At this point Damien and Cersa were emerging from the house, having caught on to the drama unfolding outside. Griever trotted along faithfully, ever at his master’s side.

 

Calypso sighed, particularly as Damien came forward so that he too could hear the tale, almost like she knew he was going to be frustrated. “Well I found the damn staff.” She said, looking between Damien and Mark.

 

Mark’s eyes widened a little, and even Damien looked stunned. 

 

“Well where is it?” Mark asked.

 

“That’s the problem.” Calypso told him. “Damien. The  _ owner _ came looking for it. He intercepted me and my sisters on the way here.” She said. “Clio’s the only one who wasn’t hurt; she’s on her way.”

 

Damien’s gaze shot heaven-ward, and he indeed, looked super frustrated. “So the Dagda has the fucking thing.” Damien growled heavily at that, glancing over to Mark, as Virgil moved to offer him his jacket. Mark pulled it on gratefully. “I’m guessing he’s on his way here now, because that would certainly explain the sudden downturn in the weather.”

 

Calypso nodded. “What did you do to piss him off?” She asked, seeming to size up the situation.

 

“Mark and Virg collectively worked together to kill his wife. Wives. Wife.” Damien told her, gesturing vaguely in their direction.

 

“Are you kidding me?”  Calypso asked, sliding her gaze over to the two men. There was the sound of another loud lightning strike, as the storm again began to turn violent. “How did they even… they’re both mortals…”

 

“Hey.” Mark stopped her. “First of all, Virgil and I both have our tricks. Secondly, it wasn’t like we went out looking to kill his wives!” Mark tried. 

 

“In our defense, we were… defending ourselves.” Virgil agreed. 

 

“Oh good. No wonder he’s pissed.” Calypso sighed. With a flourish, she produced her own weapon. It was different from Milo’s, long, curved slightly in the middle, with a wickedly dangerous looking edge. It looked to him like either a kopis, or a falcata, but he wasn’t sure he could actually tell the difference between the two. 

 

“Mark, get inside the damn house.” Cersa, who’d been quietly listening to all of this (and even more quietly fuming) told him sternly. “There’s about to be a fight.” 

 

“And do what?” Mark asked, not liking the idea of being in there alone. “What do I do if he fucking teleports himself in there? It’s not like I can run like this.” 

 

Damien turned to level him with a serious look. “He won’t get far.” Damien answered him. “Look, you practically have the whole damn family here.” He said, gesturing to the small crowd that had gathered. As Mark followed Damien’s arm he noticed the group pulling close, Virgil, Cersa, Calypso, and Clio, in the back, stumbling down the side of the hill. 

 

“I promise you we’ll take him out and get that damn staff back.” Calypso told him.

 

“My brother’s been out of the game for too fucking long.” Cersa added. “One way or another, this all ends today.”  She said more angry than Mark had ever seen her

 

Virgil moved to Mark’s side again, moving to gently guide him back towards the house. “Maybe go sit with Milo, some.” Virgil told him softly. “So you can be there when we wake him up.” 

 

“If that even works. Even Damien isn’t sure.” Mark pointed out, looking to Virgil as he stepped up on the back patio. He adjusted Virgil’s jacket a little. It fit over his shoulders just fine, but he couldn’t close it over his stomach, obviously. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

 

“I try to.” Virgil replied.

 

Outside, the others began to take up defensive positions. The storm began to get heavier.

 

Clio glanced over to her cousin Cersa. “So… when are we going to discuss the demon garden you planted at the top of that hill?” She asked innocently.

 

Damien and Cersa shared a look, before Cersa asked. “What do you mean?”

 

“Just that…” Clio trailed off a bit. “On my way here, I noticed your dude up there, sticking his staff in the graves and popping up demons like daisies.” She said. “And they didn’t seem all that happy about it. So. I’m pretty sure. That’s gonna be a problem.” She said. 

 

Cersa gave a look to Damien. A frustrated, heavily annoyed look. “Is it?” She asked him, voice terse.

 

“Um.” Damien hummed a little. “I mean it’s a little awkward.” He said. “Guess the fucker found himself an army.” 

 

Cersa rolled her eyes. “Great.” She sighed, as she moved to pull out her weapon. “Just… make good choices, everyone.” 

 

“What the fuck is that?” Clio asked. “Is that our battle cry? The Avengers got ‘assemble’. We got ‘make good choices.’ We’re going to fucking die, and that’s going to be someone’s last words.” She said, her voice heavy with judgment. 

 

“We’re not going to die…” Calypso said to her sister, in a lilting tone that one supposed was meant to be calming.

 

“Yeah well some of us have a tendency to do the opposite.” Cersa replied, looking to Damien a bit pointedly. “Don’t think I won’t find you in Sicily, asshole. If I have to dig you and Mark up out of the European underground I will pull your spine out through your ass.” 

 

“Funny you should say that, because I was just thinking that the next time I bury something, I should go a little deeper.” Damien said, glancing back to Virgil, who was moving to rejoin them. 

 

“I think they’re coming.” Virgil shouted.

 

“Good.” Calypso said. “I can’t take anymore of this conversation.”

 

Griever let out a warning growl.

 

Their line crumbled under the first attack.

 

~~

 

When Mark entered the house he spotted Daphnis hanging out by the door. The little black cat was making some kind of strange noise, like the little creature was in pain. Even though it was a little more difficult for him to do these days, he crouched down, bending at the knees and holding onto the frame of the door to keep his balance, and he swept the cat into his arms. Daphnis pressed his head into Mark’s neck, purring softly. He was half-hoping that if anything did manage to get past the group out there, defending  _ him _ , he couldn’t forget, that the cat would be able to warn him. Daphnis was better than Cersa at detecting potential threats. 

 

He thought about Virgil’s advice about sitting with Milo until they were done, and ultimately decided that wouldn’t be the best idea. If someone did break in and there was a struggle, there was enough equipment in there that Milo depended on to stay  _ alive _ , that Mark didn’t think it was worth risking.

 

So he took the cat with him into Cersa’s room and shoved a chair against the door. Not that he thought it would help (especially since, he realized after the fact, that the door opened the other way,) but maybe it would slow them down while he tried to think of something he could do. Right after he did that the house seemed to creek and shift, rolling like an earthquake would if he were back in California. Mark cringed a little, ducking down a bit as he heard the house whine, but it didn’t end up caving in on him like he feared it would. Daphnis whined again as he finally set him down onto Cersa’s bed. That didn’t bode well. If Daphnis was already tripping out, then whatever was happening out there, it couldn’t be going well for him.

 

The wind howled and the house creaked again. There was a loud thump and the house went suddenly dark. Daphnis' cries reached a fever pitch. 

 

“Fuck.” Mark glanced to the door again, his brain slow to process as he fought through the panic and fear of the situation. Without the power running into those various devices, Milo was going to die. His body was so weak from the fighting the spell. Mark cursed again as he rushed back to the door, knocked the chair to the side and went out into the hallway, unsure of what he was even going to do.

 

It was a trap. It was always a fucking trap. And he always, always managed to run headfirst into them, even though he literally predicted a few minutes before what was going to happen. The house was so dark that he had to place his hands on the wall to center himself, trying to guide his way down the hallway, still making an attempt to move at a brisk pace. He didn’t even see the overly large man standing directly in front of him until Mark crashed head first into his chest. His eyes adjusted very quickly to the darkness then, and that’s when he saw the overly built man.

 

The Dagda.

 

He was the man whose wives he’d killed with the pendant in Anza Borrego. 

 

Mark barely had the chance to utter more than a loud, screeched out “Damien!” Before the man grabbed him, whipped him around and placed a thick hand over his mouth. He recognized the sensation of being transported, that kind of tingling feeling under his skin before he was taken. The world faded in front of him and the two of them were instantly gone, leaving behind only Daphnis, mewing pitifully behind him.

 

~~

 

Once the world settled again Mark was standing at the top of the hill. When he looked down it he could see Cersa’s house, partially obscured by the rain. To his right he could see the five shallow graves Damien had dug for the demons, recently reopened and empty. That was one of the reasons Mark never wanted to come up here, least of which being that he was heavily, heavily pregnant. Mark twisted, hard, and the man finally released him, allowing Mark to stumble and sink down to the ground. He was able to brace himself from landing too hard, with one arm wrapped protectively around his belly, and planting the palm of his opposite hand firmly into the dirt. Little girl was kicking in obvious distress, fuck, she probably felt so cold, even protected as she was, because Mark’s fingers were almost immediately frozen fucking stiff. He was so cold his bones ached. It had been temperate that morning, so he knew it had to be the god in front of him messing with the weather. 

 

Mark tried to pull the jacket around himself even tighter, trying to shield his baby a little. The last time he saw this man he’d just hit Milo with the staff, the very staff he was holding directly in front of him. Mark was well aware of what that staff could do, not just to him, but to his child, and the thought had him shrinking back, trying to put some distance between himself and that wicked thing.

 

“Please.” Mark begged. He was tired. He was weak. He was thinking about Milo, cold and dying alone back at the house. He trembled to think that the man could be passing right then, and he wasn’t there to hold him through it.  _ He wasn’t there _ .

 

“What is this?” The man demanded, seeming to look Mark over. “What happened to that bravado you had before? That arrogance?” he asked. “Pathetic. This is the one who killed my beautiful wives?” He demanded, using the staff to move forward, into Mark’s space again, and Mark cringed, expecting a blow that never came. “You were nothing without that weapon.” 

 

“Yes. You’re right. Completely.” Mark sighed, looking up to the much taller man. “What do you want me to say? You attacked my boyfriend and I defended him and myself. Now he’s back at the house probably dying because of you.” Mark said, and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. “Isn’t that enough for you? Doesn’t that make us even?” He asked. 

 

“There is no recompense you could give me that would ever ease my grief!” The man shouted, sinking in low and quick so that he could scream in Mark’s face. This time Mark refused to shrink back. He glared back at the other man, defiant. 

 

“Then what do you want me to do? Just die?” Mark asked. “You’re going to kill me, and my child, aren’t you?” Mark realized. “My innocent  _ baby _ who has nothing at all to do with this! Nothing else will make you happy. This is never going to end until you’ve taken from me what you feel like you’ve lost.” 

 

“Oh no. I'm not going to kill you. That would be far less than you deserve.” The man replied, reaching down to place his hand against Mark’s cheek. Mark was so stunned by the action that it took him a minute to react. He grabbed the other man’s wrist and tried to shove him back, but Mark knew better by now than to think he could overpower any of these beings. The man just dipped in closer. “I know you’re carrying a girl. I  _ know  _ that she’s the first immortal to be born in the past four thousand years.” 

 

Mark blinked a little at that particular revelation. That was something Cersa absolutely had not prepared him for. Did that mean that that was why Milo's mother had been so insistent on Milo having kids and settling down? But why Milo and not Cersa? Why were the immortals so bad at making kids? Were they beginning to die out? There was so much he didn't understand. But he didn't have much of a chance to dwell on it. That man's hand gripped him tighter, nails digging into the flesh along his cheek, under his ear, along his neck, drawing a pitiful sound out of him.

 

"I'm going to keep you alive. Yes, you need to live so you can see what I'm going to do to  _ her _ ."

 

Mark shook his head, his heart thudding heavy in his chest as he listened to the man's threat. "No…"

 

"You don't get to tell me no." The man told him. "You took from me what I love most, whom I loved most dearly, and now I'm going to take that from you." He gestured back to the house with his staff. "Your lover lay dying, unable to defend you." He said. "You don't have the power to stop me. I will take your daughter and raise her to serve me. On bended knee, or on her back." The man looked him over carefully, letting his words sink in. Mark could feel his skin crawling, growing hot.

 

"I hope she looks like you. I would love to see the pained look you're giving me now reflected in her eyes." He whispered.

 

"No." Mark said again, and the man growled, reaching to take Mark's hair and tug it, hard.

 

"I told you-"

 

The man suddenly reared back, shouting in pain. Steam rose off of his hand, as the rain water hit it and ran down his burnt flesh. 

 

Suddenly, Damien moved in front of Mark, his cane raised in front of him in an offensive position.

 

"Sorry it took so long." The man said, glancing back to Mark. "It was complicated getting up here."

 

“Playing hopscotch with demons?” Mark asked. His joke kind of belayed the overwhelming feeling of relief he felt. Damien was there. Everything was going to be okay.

 

“In a manner of speaking, yeah.” Damien quietly took in the scene, watching the man spitting and cursing as he nursed his hand. Griever eventually joined them, taking up a defensive position on Mark’s other side. "What did you do?" Damien asked, glancing to Mark.

 

"Me?" Mark demanded. "What gave you the impression that I'm in any condition to do anything to him???" 

 

“Well I didn’t do it. That.” Damien looked over to the man again. “It’s a little disconcerting is all. I came up here thinking I was going to save you, and you’re in the middle of saving yourself.” Damien offered his hand to Mark, and Mark gratefully took it, allowing the other man to haul him up. 

 

“It wasn’t me.” Mark insisted softly.

 

"I mean. I don't know, I just assumed with the way he was crying like a little bitch over there that you just hauled off and nailed him in the ba-"

 

Mark didn't give Damien a chance to finish. He leaned in and pulled Damien into another strong bear hug. Damien nearly stumbled back, surprised, but he sighed and gently returned it, with one arm pressed to Mark's back. 

 

"You're okay." Damien told him softly. 

 

"But Milo…" Mark began, only for Damien to hush him softly. 

 

"Doesn't matter." Damien told him, as he gently rubbed Mark's back. "We have the staff now." 

 

Mark pulled back, giving him a dumbfounded look. He glanced over to the god who had attacked him. " _ He _ has the staff." He said sensibly, as he pointed in the direction of the Dagda. 

 

"No, I'm going to have that thing, I'm telling you. Watch me." Damien made a motion, and Mark watched as a stream of hail collapsed to the ground behind the man. "Calypso."

 

The woman emerged and she grabbed the man, forcing him to bend over backwards to accommodate her smaller height, as she held her blade to his throat. As he struggled to escape without slitting his throat, Damien cast another spell.

 

Virgil appeared near by. The man showed no sign of hesitation, as though he and Damien had planned this, ducked in, sliding under an attempted strike from the man, before reaching up and grabbing the staff. He twisted it around his arm, bending the man's wrist backwards at a painful angle, forcing him to release the staff. Virgil caught it and quickly ran back towards Damien.

 

"Okay now, Mark, for reference." Damien said, pointing to the staff in Virgil's hands. "Which end of it did he hit Kasmilos with?"

 

Mark was a little too stunned to speak right at first. That had all happened so fast. He quickly shook off his surprise. "The bottom." Mark said, pointing it out to him. 

 

Damien nodded, looking back to his apprentice. "Virgil, you know what to do."

 

Virgil nodded, and with a flourish, Damien disappeared him once again.

 

Mark looked to Damien. "What's he doing?" Mark asked. He watched as the man suddenly got the upper hand on Calypso, Pulling her off of him and tossing her into a cluster of small cacti nearby. Mark winced a little at that. Beside him, Griever made a low, growling noise, bearing teeth as the man began to move towards them once more.

 

"Virgil is waking up Kasmilos." Damien said, as the man prepared himself to face off the other man. "We're going to need him to fight." 

 

As the man approached, Damien gently pulled Mark behind him. He flipped his cane into the air, and when it came back down, it was a sword, which Damien snatched by the handle held in front of the both of them. 

 

"You're going to die today, wizard."

 

“Please.” Damien rolled his eyes. "I fucking wish you would." He said. 

 

As Mark watched, the Dagda summoned up the five demons that Virgil and Cersa had killed before, using them like living shields. They definitely looked a lot worse for wear, but then, they’d been dead for months. Clothes and flesh rotting, and a few of them were missing eyes.

 

Damien's stance dropped a little, but just for a moment. Mark knew what was going through his head, a small litany of "the boss is going to kill me," over and over again. Maybe Damien truly didn't fear death, but he certainly feared what the boss could do to him if he ever stepped out of line. Mark placed a hand on Damien's shoulder, trying to be as supportive as he could.

 

"Come on, wizard." the man beckoned to him. "Lay down your arms. You know what your master will do to you if you don't." 

 

Mark sighed, seeing Damien seem to hesitate. He didn’t expect Damien to betray his master for him. He wouldn’t want him to. "Hey." He said. "You don't have to do anything." He told Damien pointedly. "I'm sure Sicily is nice this time of year."

 

"No. No no no." Damien said, as he raised his cane up again. "We're not running anymore. We're not hiding." He said, setting his jaw. "The boss'll forgive me. Eventually." He decided.

 

Mark looked to him, surprised. "Damien don't you get all self-sacrificial over me." He warned sternly.

 

"Don't worry, it's gonna be fine." Damien insisted. He whistled at the Dagda. "Come on then, bitch, send me your meat factory." 

 

There was a cry. Griever let out a howl before charging forward, attacking one of the closest demons, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of his thigh.

 

Damien raised his weapon and laughed defiantly.

 

~~

 

There was a buzzing in his ears as he struggled to come back to the surface. There was a fog that sat heavy across his chest; a weight that felt like it was keeping him down. His limbs trembled, weak from the lack of movement. He felt like a mummy, dead for years, returning to life, with withered limbs, jellied blood, and organs slowly resuming functioning on their own.

 

The machine forcing air into his lungs was the first to go. He was choking on the extra air being forced into his lungs, and once he pulled it out he couldn't stop himself from hacking violently. Once he finished his vision finally began to clear up. He was hoping to see Mark, just to see that he was okay.

 

He didn't recognize the man standing over him, removing the I.V's and other equipment from his body. 

 

"Who are you?" Milo asked, and he scarcely recognized the words as he got them out, they sounded so choked off.

 

The man paused for a moment, looking to him. "Right." He said. "We never officially met." He tossed aside the last sensor and looked to Milo. "My name is Virgil." 

 

"Virgil." He thought he recognized that name, but it seemed like so long ago. Mark said something about him. "You're Damien's apprentice." He said, and the man nodded.

 

"And he needs your help." Virgil said, taking the staff, the staff, Milo recognized the weapon that cast him into this deep sleep intimately. Virgil turned and offered it to him. "He's at the top of the hill trying to protect Mark."

 

"What?" Milo growled, snatching the staff out of Virgil's hands. As he did so, he accidentally knocked something from the headboard, watching it flutter to the mattress out of the corner of his eye. It gave Milo pause as he went to pick it up. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. The image of a sonogram, with the words  _ Baby Fischbach _ printed at the bottom in a tiny neat script. He was quiet for a moment, as he began to realize all that was at stake here. His knees wobbled a little as he slid off of the bed, but Virgil was quick to offer his support, grabbing his elbow to keep him upright.

 

...that was when he realized he was standing there in nothing but a paper gown, his ass hanging out the back freely.

 

Virgil winced a little looking at him.

 

"I'd take a couple of seconds to put on pants." The man gently advised.

 

~~

 

As Milo emerged from the house he saw the broken body of his cousin Clio lying on the ground, with Cersa hovering over her, gently treating her injuries as the smaller girl moaned. When he stepped off of the patio Cersa’s head whipped upwards. Her mouth fell open as she slowly rose to her feet, eyes wide as she took him in. “Kaz.” She whispered.

 

Milo spared her a glance. He wanted to say more to reassure her, but he needed to find Mark first, and, due to the noise and the slightly worsening storm, it didn’t take him long to find him. Standing at the edge of the hill, just inches away from tumbling down a steep incline. He could just make out a line of fire in front of him, and Damien beside him, directing it. He was using it against a group of demons, every one of them that approached ended up with a faceful. It never seemed to stop them for long. Milo wasn’t terribly surprised. They were low-level demons, sure, but he could sense there was some other force behind them that was pulling the strings. Milo had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly who. 

 

He placed his hand in front of him, felt the strands of rain that was tumbling from the sky so hard that it was more like a river. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself becoming one with it, felt it course through his veins. It was a better balm for his injuries than any modern medicine. He felt rejuvenated. With that power once again flowing through him he projected himself on top of that hill, extinguishing Damien’s flame with just his presence.

 

Milo could hear Cersa cheering him on from her place at the bottom of the hill.

 

It wasn’t that Damien’s strategy wasn’t a good one. But Milo had been out of commission for months, now. He’d been left helpless and unable to protect Mark for so long. It left him with a burning, deep rage that only blood could extinguish.

 

So these six souls standing in front of him? They were walking dead, and they didn’t even know it yet. 

 

He locked dark eyes with Damien, making sure that the man understood his plan. Without exchanging any words, Damien nodded moving to instead to erect a shield around himself and Mark.

 

Milo dug the end of the staff into the dirt, holding it firmly as he pulled water and energy from the storm, dropping the element like a stone onto the five demons, one by one, allowing the individuals who were next to die brief seconds to consider their fates. The water crushed flesh and bone, mingled with the scant amount of blood regenerated from their corpses. As the Dagda realized what was happening, the man looked much paler, much more frightened. It was a look that Milo thoroughly enjoyed. 

 

“You have treated my lover most cruelly. Terrible move on your part.” Milo said, as he approached. “I’m not exactly the forgiving type.” The man summoned a weapon with which to beat him off, but Milo was far too quick. He used the staff to knock the axe from his hands and then shoved the end of it into the man’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. He moved quickly, placing one foot on the man’s stomach to hold him down. Then, he raised the staff high into the air, before smashing the end of it down into the man’s throat. He could feel the bones of his neck crack under the weight of the weapon. He heard the Dagda make a sickening, gurgling sound that was divine to hear. His mouth fell open, as he began to die, slow, collecting quickly with rainwater until it fell from his mouth like an overflowing cup. The staff’s spell, naturally, didn’t do to him what it did to Milo, but he didn’t need it to.

 

“You’re going to wish, my friend, that I could do to you what you nearly did to me.” Milo said, as he twisted the staff, digging it in even more, cutting off airways, cracking the bones surrounding his spinal column. “I’m going to have to settle for merely breaking your neck. It’s not nearly what you deserve, but I suppose it will suffice.” Milo casually stated. 

 

The man’s face turned a pale blue, starting with his lips, as he finally began to fade. His body was twitching twitch, still trying to fight his fate until its remaining stores of energy finally gave out. A meaty hand latched onto Milo’s ankle, with a surprising amount of strength left, but these were merely the man’s death throes, one finally spasm from the nervous system as it too began to crash. Milo twisted the staff one last time, separating muscle and sinew, ligament tearing off of bone, painfully pulling the spinal column apart.

 

Lightning cracked across the sky. 

 

The elder god lay dead, body ravaged at Milo’s feet. 

 

With a sickening sound, Milo pulled the staff out of the man’s neck, and with his remaining rage powering him, he took the staff and smashed it against a nearby rock, watching with immense satisfaction as it splintered into three pieces in front of him. 

 

Milo stood, panting, tipping his head up into the rain, letting it caress his body and pool at his feet. Now that the driving force was gone, the storm began to fade around them. Natural order was slowly beginning to be restored.

 

“Milo.” 

 

Milo was drawn out of the trance in time to see Mark, dripping wet from the rain, standing close to him, one hand outstretched, like he was afraid to touch him. 

 

Milo glanced down, seeing the bizarre look of himself. He had scales sticking out in various odd places, areas where his skin was much paler than it should be, like in his trance both his merman and human forms collided. With a soft word, he banished the merman form completely, standing in front of Mark, entirely human once again. He felt strangely awkward, like it had been so long since he’d seen the other man, and he didn’t know how to act around him. Like they were strangers again. He carefully tucked a black strand of hair behind his ear as he thought of something to say to Mark.

 

“I’m sorry if I fright-”

 

He suddenly had his arms full of the other man, as Mark crashed into him, so hard that he nearly stumbled. He wrapped his arms around him, sinking slowly to kneel in the mud and water that had pooled around them, positioning Mark to sit astride one of his thighs. He pressed a hand into dirt to keep them both upright as Mark kissed him, over and over, hands digging into his skin, his hair, touching every part of him he could reach. When Mark finally had to stop just to breathe again, he just fell in close, holding Milo so tightly, his body trembling, either from the cold or from his emotions, Milo just couldn’t properly tell. So he just held Mark close, cradling him in his arms as the man seemed to shiver to pieces in front of him.

 

“So many times…” Mark finally got out, voice hoarse. “So many times over the past eight months I thought for sure that I’d lost you.” He whispered, breathing into Milo’s neck. “Times where I would kick myself for fighting this, thinking that I was just hurting you, by making you fight. My heart was broken…” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Milo whispered, tugging him more tightly in. He could feel the man’s belly pressed between them, and he did his best to be careful of it. Yeah, he and Cersa were going to have words about that later, but for now it seemed less important than just taking care of Mark.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Mark shook his head, but he gripped onto Milo tighter. “It’s not your fucking fault. I just… I never expected…” 

 

Mark finally raised his head up, reaching up to place a hand on Milo’s cheek. Even that was trembling. Milo placed his own hand over Mark’s and he felt immediately how frozen and stiff his hand was. He knew Mark had to be aching, it was such a bone deep chill. Milo did his best to tug him in, trying to shield him from the elements and offer him some warmth.

 

“Never expected you to come out of it.” Mark whispered, finally dropping his hand to rest on a shoulder. Mark looked utterly pale and worn as he said the words, and Milo could only feel guilt for what he’d put the man through. 

 

“Well I’m here now.” Milo said softly, moving to press his forehead to Mark’s, just keeping him close. “I’m here.” He said again. 

 

“Okay…” Both Mark and Milo looked up as Damien moved to stand over them. He had transformed his cane again, from the sword into an umbrella. He moved to hold it over Mark, shielding him at least in part from the rain. “I gave you guys a couple of minutes, but it’s time to get back in the house. Mark really shouldn’t be out here until the environment stabilizes a little.”

 

Milo just laughed drily. “Happy to see you too, Damien.” 

 

“Hey, I’m just saying Mark’s getting ready to pop and you’re out here making out in the rain.” Damien pointed out to the both of them. “So let’s do what the adults do, and you two can finish this in a hot shower or something.” 

 

"Kaz!" 

 

Milo braced himself and Mark, protectively angling the man to his left as Cersa slammed into his other side, kneeling down beside him and throwing her arms around him. If it wasn't for Milo bracing for the impact all three likely would have toppled to the ground. 

 

"Fuck Kaz you scared the shit out of me." She whispered, and she sounded just about as close to crying as Mark had.

 

Milo gave his sister kind of a lop-sided smile. “Who are you kidding, this is the quietest eight months you’ve had in years.” He told her, and Cersa, looking less than amused, smacked his shoulder, hard.

 

“Yeah, because we were all grieving over you, don’t be a little bitch. We really thought we were gonna....” Cersa stopped herself from finishing that, like she couldn’t really acknowledge how close they had cut it. She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “But seriously, how are you doing?” She asked him.

 

Milo sighed, tugging Mark in close again. “I’m fine.” he said. “Don’t worry about me.” 

 

“You just came out of a fucking magic coma. I’ll be worried if I want. Who are you to tell me, the only one here with healing magic experience, what to be worried about?” Cersa demanded. Milo raised a hand in surrender.

 

“I promise I’m okay.” Milo assured her quietly. She looked skeptical, but she let it go for now.

 

Milo looked up as his cousins began to move in. Calypso was digging cactus spines out of her limbs, and she looked irritated, but all the same, happy to see him. Clio had a pretty bad limp, but she seemed okay, too. Finally, Virgil rejoined them, panting a bit from running up the hill.

 

“We done here?” He asked, placing his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. 

 

Cersa looked between the group, kind of taking stock of everyone, accounting for injuries that would need to be treated, and finally landing back on Mark. Which caused Milo to focus back on the other man and…

 

Mark looked downright peaked. Skin pale and clammy, eyes unfocused and glassy. Concerned, Milo reached out to grip Mark’s arm, trying to get his attention. “Mark?” he asked. 

 

At the sound of his name, Mark shook a little, like he was trying to come out of it. “What?” he asked, after a moment. 

 

Concerned, Milo slide his hand down Mark’s wrist, gripping one cold hand. “You’re a little out of it right now, babe.” He said, voice gentle. 

 

Cersa leaned in too, placing two fingers against Mark’s neck, and Milo realized after a moment that she was looking for a pulse. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?” She asked.

 

“Hurts.” Mark said breathily as he leaned in a little, resting his head against Milo’s shoulder. “Pressure.” 

 

“Fuck.” Cersa said, pulling back. “We’ve got to get him back to the clinic.” 

 

“What the heck!” Clio shouted from a few feet away. “Can we take a few minutes to even breathe?!” 

 

“Shush.” Calypso told her sister. “Not important right now.” 

 

“I’ll take him.” Damien stepped in, pulling his keys out and tossing them in Virgil’s direction. Virgil went to catch them, ended up dropping them and had to fumble for them for a second until he had them in his hands. 

 

“Take him how?” Milo demanded, as Damien leaned down, placing his hands under Mark’s arms and gently hauling the man to his feet. “Damien.” 

 

“I’m going to teleport with him to the clinic.” Damien said. “It’s faster than trying to climb down the hill and then driving for forty minutes down the highway. All while he’s going into labor, I should add.” He pointed out sensibly, and probably also because he knew Milo was going to be irritated at having to be separated from Mark again so soon. He absolutely was, but he could still see the sense in Damien’s plan.

 

Milo slowly rose to his feet. “Be careful with him…” he said, kind of needlessly. He knew Damien would watch out for Mark. He trusted Damien with his own life after all. The look Damien gave him, as he pulled one of Mark’s arms around his shoulder, said he knew it, too. 

 

“Settle down, Tex.” Damien told him. “What do you think I’ve been doing while you were napping in Cersa’s guest room?” he asked. “Just get your ass down to the clinic, Sleeping Beauty, you may be a daddy by the time you reach it.” 

 

With Mark kind of slouched over in his arms, Damien finally disappeared.

 

Milo cast his eyes over to Cersa. “Strange world I’ve woken up in.” he noted. “And I get the feeling you have a lot you need to explain to me.” He said pointedly.

 

“We’ll do it in the car ride over.” Cersa said, as she proceeded to make her way down from the hill.

 

~~

 

As soon as they arrived in the waiting room, (much to the surprise of the waiting mothers and nurses there,) Mark collapsed into Damien’s arms, passing out entirely. Damien had been anticipating it though, and caught him easily.

 

He looked over to a nurse staring dumbfounded at the two of them and whistled at her sharply. “Don’t just stand there; get him a wheelchair! And get the doctor.” he said, as the nurse seemed to quickly come to her senses.

 

“Y-yes sir.” She stuttered, as she ducked behind the front desk, looking for a spare chair. 

 

The nurse sitting behind the desk leaned over her monitor, getting a better look at the patient. “Oh.” She said. “That’s our special case.” She noted.

 

Damien nodded. “I believe you’re supposed to have a private room for him.”

 

“Well we weren’t expecting… not today.” She frowned a little. “There’s someone else in that room right now.” 

 

Damien rolled his eyes, as the first nurse finally emerged with the chair. “Well move them. He’s just gone into labor. Your clinic is supposed to specialize in this area, why aren’t you ready for surprises like this?” 

 

“Ah…” The woman checked her computer, looking over the information there. “We have someone else who’s leaving. If you can give us an hour…”

 

“Are you…. Kidding?” Damien replied, as he settled Mark into the chair. “Does he look like he has an hour?” he asked, as he knelt down beside the chair, looking up into Mark’s glassy eyes. It kind of seemed like he was struggling to come out of his faint. Damien placed his hand in Mark’s, noting how very cold the limb was. He cast a very gentle spell, something to generate some heat and warm him up quicker. That seemed to help. Mark blinked a couple of times, before he was finally able to focus on the man kneeling in front of him.

 

“Damien?” Mark whispered, voice shaky. 

 

“You’re doing fine, kid.” Damien told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s these idiots I’m not so sure about.” 

 

Mark gave him kind of a look at that, which bordered a little on the hilarious side for him. Mark trying to look angry while also looking like death. “Be nice.” Mark whispered.

 

“Make me.” Damien replied. “You… you have to stay conscious to do that.” He said, like it would encourage Mark to stay with them. He looked back to the staff, trying to spy out some sign that they were actually making an attempt to help Mark.

 

The nurse continued to type into her computer, instead of immediately seeing to Mark. Which was irritating, to Damien. “Well, this being his first labor, I mean it could last for hours, so…” She said, when she finally spoke up again.

 

“Hours?” Mark squeaked out a little. He was drooping forward, and he wasn’t sure that Mark was even aware that he was doing it. Worried that he might pass out again, Damien growled a little, moving to push him back up in the chair. “Can we at least get him in a bed, then?” The wizard demanded. “If he falls out of this chair and hits the floor, there’s gonna be lawsuits.” He said.

 

“Right…” The nurse said and- continued to not move. Damien shot her the most poisonous look he could muster, until the nurse finally got up and came over to Mark’s side. “We have a gurney in the hallway, until we clear the room-”

 

“You’re going to make him wait in a fucking hallway.” Damien replied. 

 

“Just until we get the room cleaned.” She said. 

 

“I am gonna put a curse on this whole fucking…” 

 

“Damien, it’s fine.” Mark said, looking to him as the doctor finally emerged. Not that Damien recognized him right off. Going to these appointments had been a Virgil and Cersa thing. The man looked to his patient first, before finally sizing up Damien. 

 

“Are you the daddy?” The doctor asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Uh.” Damien said. Well, now, he did know this guy, this was the guy that came to the house every so often to check up on Kasmilos while he was in the coma. He knew goddamn well that Damien was not.

 

“No!” Mark protested needlessly. “Milo’s the daddy, remember?” He said.

 

“Ah, right.” The doctor replied. “You can have a seat out here in the waiting room.” 

 

“What?” Damien drawled, looking ten kinds of irritated. 

 

“Not my rules, son. Only the family can come into the back with Mark.” the doctor said, and he didn’t even look remotely apologetic about it. Damien guessed his attitude had gotten back to the clinic’s owner, and he was pulling this shit to keep Damien from harassing the staff.

 

“His family is forty minutes behind me, who do you think is going to keep an eye on-”

 

“Damien, it’s fine.” Mark replied. “It’s not a big deal, I know everyone here.” He said. “Just send Milo back when he gets here. Please.” 

 

Damien finally nodded, mostly because he didn’t want to get kicked out. “If they fuck up anything, you scream at me. I’ll hear it.” Damien promised. 

 

Mark was still a little too out of it to really reply, but Damien was satisfied to receive one last eyeroll from the man as they wheeled him towards the back area. Damien looked back to the other mothers in the waiting room, browsing through various magazines and looking like they were all trying to ignore the scene he and Mark had just made. Damien freely fell into the seat next to a woman, who briefly glanced up from her magazine to give him an annoyed look. Damien shook his head, he swore up and down every day, he was learning to hate humanity more and more. He literally teleports in there with a semi-famous pregnant  _ man _ and Sheila over here couldn’t be less impressed. He tapped the magazine she was reading with his cane. “What you got there?” He asked. “ _ Fate Magazine _ ?  _ Fortean Times _ ?” He asked, listing off the only publications he thought were still worth reading in this day and age. 

 

The woman turned the magazine over, showing him the cover of  _ Cosmopolitan _ .

 

Damien sighed as he sank back in his seat. Once again, his beliefs were affirmed, that hell was in fact on earth.

 

~~

 

Mark didn’t remember anything after the epidural, and maybe that had been for the best. He had never felt a pain like this before. There was so much pressure in his lower abdomen, against his back, and he had this weird urge to try and push down, even though he’d been told numerous times that he should do no such thing. He spent that hour waiting in the hallway kind of fading in and out, with a nurse occasionally hovering nearby. She eventually took his vitals and things moved very quickly after that. They finally moved him into a room and began to work on him. For a while he thought he could hear Cersa’s voice, but he couldn’t see her. He eventually heard Milo, thought that maybe the man was gripping his hand, leaning over him, but he couldn’t see him, either. His world was worryingly greyed out, but there was nothing he could do.

 

Mark woke up fully a few hours later. At least, he suspected it was a few hours later. The sun was coming up through the blinds of the window to his left. So he’d at least spent the night there in the clinic. He was alone in the private room, so far as he could tell. Which really didn’t make him feel good. Where was Milo? Where was his baby? How was he supposed to know if she was okay if he didn’t have her? 

 

When his vision cleared up enough that he could see the empty crib in the corner of the room he knew he needed to find her.

 

Mark sat up, feeling the various machines and IV’s he was hooked up to tugging at him as he did. But it was too damn quiet, and after everything, he was way too nervous to be alone. He needed some kind of affirmation that his family was okay. He began to carefully slide out of the bed, placing his feet down flat on the floor, limbs shaking heavily as he tied to work up the strength to get up.

 

“Haha, bitch, kick me out now. I have permission.” Mark looked to the door, recognizing Damien’s voice coming from the other side. As the other man pushed in the door, he took a brief second to see the position Mark had pushed himself into. 

 

“Oh shit.” Damien said, as he moved around to Mark’s side. “Yeah, that’s a hard no, get the fuck back in bed.” He said, as he placed a cup on a nightstand nearby. “You should know better.” 

 

“You’re not my mom.” Mark replied snappily, but he was too weak to really fight it either, as Damien gently guided him back into the center of the bed. Once he was situated he handed Mark the cup, which was filled with what he realized was ice chips. Right, he’d just had major abdominal surgery. He’d actually been in this position before, and though the circumstances were different, he kind of understood the gist of what was expected of him now.

 

“I’m not your mom, I’m your  _ daddy _ .” Damien said, his voice going dark and husky when he said the last word. He smirked a little when he saw Mark cringe.

 

“It’s not okay when you say it like that.” Mark told him.

 

“You said it to me first.” Damien pointed out.

 

“It was cute when I said it. You said it like a sex offender.” Mark said.

 

Damien grinned at him. “Now what are you trying to break out of here for?” He asked. 

 

“I was trying to find my family.” Mark said pointedly. “I want my boyfriend, and I need my baby, I carried her for 9 months and I haven’t even been able to hold her yet.” He said, pouting a bit.

 

“Yeah, you were a little fucked up at the time.” Damien said. “Well, if you’re worried, don’t. Milo’s with her. They’re just doing a check up, making sure everything’s good, and he’s gonna bring her right back.” Damien said. 

 

“I missed her first check up?” Mark asked, looking like he was gonna cry. That of course got Damien all riled up. 

 

“No no, don’t cry, you didn’t miss out. This is just a screening.” Damien said, softly, trying to soothe him. “Not even a full check up, they’re just taking blood and-”

 

“They’re taking her blood and I’m not there?” Mark demanded, and he nearly dropped the cup he was holding with how upset he was.

 

“Mark, you couldn’t go anyways, you’re not allowed to walk right now.” Damien pointed out sensibly. 

 

As Mark continued to look stressed, Damien sighed. “Look, you’ve just had major surgery. They haven’t even begun to look at the long term effects of what this pregnancy did to your body. You’re stuck here for at least the next four days. You need to rest. The only reason Kasmilos took her without you is because he didn’t want them to wake you. He understood that you need this. You seriously need to relax and let the people who love you take care of things.” He said. 

 

“I just feel like I need to be there for her.” Mark said as he dug out an ice chip and angrily crunched down on it. “I’m her…” He paused, realizing that he’d nearly referred to himself as her ‘mother.’

 

“I know. You’re the parent. You had this kid with you for 9 months, and now she’s out and the cord is cut and you have to start the painful process of letting her go.” he said. "But its okay. Honestly. Daddy's with her, and they're coming right back."

 

Mark sighed as he tried to talk himself into calming down. “Did you get in trouble with the boss?” Mark finally asked, trying to come up with a decent distraction.

 

Damien just kind of shrugged at that. “I mean. Yeah. But what’s he really gonna do? Cut loose his favorite foot soldier?” He asked with a shrug. 

 

“That is amazing job security, since you put it that way.” Mark agreed. 

 

Damien snorted. “One of these days he’s going to make due on his threats. He has to. I’d make the ultimate example to his other lackeys.”

 

“And you’re okay with that?” Mark asked, looking a little worried.

 

“Hell the fuck no. I plan to be long out of there before that happens.” Damien said. “Whenever I figure that out. For now, I’m hoping that the three pieces of magical life and death controlling staff I found on the top of that hill will do a lot to smooth things over with him.” He said. 

 

Mark stared at him for a long moment. “Are you sure you want to give him something that powerful?” He asked, because that didn’t seem like a good idea at all.

 

“Eh, this country’s already boned, how’s him having it really gonna make things any worse?” Damien shrugged.

 

“I mean… I just had a kid, so… I care.” Mark said about stuff like that. 

 

“Yeah… suppose you would.” Damien realized. “Hey, actually, while we’re on the topic… you thought of a name for her yet?" He asked curiously. 

 

Mark blinked a little, looking to Damien. “No…” Mark said slowly. “I don’t like how that transitioned. And I don’t really like the way you asked that, either, like you’re about to drop something awful on me.” he said. 

 

“Well, I suppose that depends on your point of view.” Damien said. “Remember way, way the fuck a long time ago, when I had you sign that contract, and told you that the boss would eventually call in that favor?”

 

“No.” Mark told him firmly. 

 

“Now now, don’t shoot me down so quickly.”  Damien said. “Listen, the boss isn’t asking you to go on some grand adventure right out of having major surgery. He just wants to name your baby.” 

 

“No! Why would he…? Why does he want to name my baby?” Mark asked, appalled. 

 

“I think it’s just to fuck with you. Like in those old fairy tales. The witch got to name Rapunzel.” Damien pointed out. 

 

“Well, what if I say no?” Mark asked. 

 

“That’s the funny thing about those contractual obligations, Mark. Just like when you’re practicing law. You break the contract, they’ll find several different ways to bend you over and make you pay. And it being the boss, we’re talking about here…” Damien shrugged. “If you’re worried, don’t be. He didn’t pick anything weird. I talked him down from his first choice.” 

 

“Which was…?” Mark asked.

 

“Evillina.” 

 

“Jesus.” Mark said, placing a hand over his forehead, like he could feel a migraine coming. “Well what did he pick?”

 

“Jennifer.” Damien answered.

 

“Jennifer.” Mark replied, giving Damien a skeptical look. “He went from Evillina to Jennifer. An actual, ‘the 80s called they want their name back’ Jennifer.”

 

“Oh, Jennifer’s not so bad.” Damien brushed off. “I mean, the boss laughed for like ten minutes after he picked it, but he was a little high at the time, so I’m sure it’s not at all related to the name.” He said. “Besides, the song is fucking bitching.” 

 

“The song? You mean ‘867-5309.’” Mark said.

 

Damien grinned at that. “Great song.” 

 

“He finds her number on the bathroom wall with ‘For a good time call Jenny.’ Yeah I remember the song.” Mark said, remembering when he tried to call it with his brother as a kid, and getting some disgruntled old man on the line who was really fucking tired of kids like him trying to get a hold of Jenny. “Not sure that I like the connotation there.”

 

“ _ Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to _ ?” Damien sang to Mark. “It’s a classic. Her friends will love it.” 

 

“Jenny.” Mark said, like he was trying to get a feel for the name. “Jenny. Jenn. Yeah, I guess I can live with that.” He finally decided.He looked over to Damien. “Any ideas for a middle name?”

 

“Well I think if you’re going to do this correctly, you can only go with Lynn.” 

 

“Mother-fucker.” Mark swore. “Okay. Fine. Jennifer Lynn. Like I’m talking to one of my mom’s friend’s from highschool.” 

 

“Exactly, perfection.” Damien kissed his fingers and saluted Mark. 

 

Mark glared at him. “I’m back to hating you.” 

 

“Then my work here is done.” Damien said, glancing over as Milo re-entered the room. He had a pale pink bundle tightly wrapped in his arms, and Mark shot upright.

 

“Gimme.” He demanded, holding his arms out for her. 

 

“Okay, who’s really the child here?” Milo asked, but his tone was teasing. 

 

“Well, now that you’re back, I suppose I’m done baby-sitting.” Damien said. “Virgil and Cersa should be back soon for their shift. I’ll leave you two alone to get all gross and emotional.” 

 

Mark just smirked. “You know, you’re not nearly as bad of a guy as you like to pretend.” he called after him. 

 

“Don’t make me feel like I have to prove you wrong…” Damien called after them.

 

As soon as they were alone, Mark reached out for his baby again. Milo grinned kicking the door closed behind him as he moved over to the bed.

 

“Okay, now we have to be careful of the incision.” Milo directed softly, as he helped Mark get into a position to hold her without hurting himself. What they eventually ended up doing was tip the bed back a little so that Milo could sit behind him and kind of brace Mark, help support him as he got acquainted with his little girl. Once everyone was situated, Mark eagerly took the tiny bundle drawing her in close. 

 

“Holy hell.” Mark breathed out a little. She was so  _ tiny. _ Which was kind of amazing, because Mark was pretty sure he’d gotten huge during this pregnancy. He thought she’d be a little bit bigger. They’d placed an oversized knit cap over her head, which only made her look tinier. Her skin had a rosy hue, and her cheeks were so round and full that her face was a little wrinkled. But despite the kind of squished newborn look she was sporting, Mark could only think that she was gorgeous. She looked like she’d been dozing, but as soon as she heard his voice she opened her eyes, revealing grey eyes.  

 

“Hey, look at that.” Milo said. “She recognizes your voice.”

 

“You think so?” Mark asked, kind of tearing up a little. He knew he was being utterly ridiculous and emotional but this was his kid.  _ His  _ kid. He’d gone through so much shit just to bring this kid into the world. And she was here now, and maybe he was being a little biased, but she was beautiful. He carefully pulled one hand away so that he could gently caress her cheek, and he watched as she turned her head to follow the motion.

 

“I love her.” Mark finally said. He had known that already, of course. Everyone around him already knew it. 

 

Milo chuckled warmly behind him. He had slid an arm around Mark’s shoulders, so he’d be able to hold him close. “She was quite the surprise to wake up to, honestly.” Milo replied. “But not an unpleasant one. And thus far, she’s been a perfect angel.” He said. “I… I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to support you through this.” 

 

“Milo.” Mark chided gently. “There was nothing you could have done.”

 

“It was my own stupid mistake...” 

 

“Hey.” Mark interrupted, leaning back a bit so that he could get a better look at Milo. “Shut up.” 

 

Milo frowned a little at that. Mark continued. 

 

“Don’t ruin this by kicking yourself over something that happened months ago. I’m just happy to have you with me now.” He said. 

 

Milo smiled, leaning in to kiss Mark’s forehead. Mark decided that was for children and he tugged Milo down for a real, actual kiss. With teeth and tongue. 

 

And of course Jennifer didn’t like that much. The baby’s face went from contented to upset before they’d gotten very involved, finally letting out a piercing wail. That cooled things down real fucking fast, and Mark looked to her, startled. “Shit, what do I do?” He asked Milo, like he’d never been around or had any experience with kids before. Which was stupid. He had a whole legion of nieces and nephews. Yet for some reason, all of that experience went straight out the window when it was his own.

 

“It’s okay, she might just hungry.” Milo told him, checking his watch. “Yeah, it’s been a couple of hours.” Milo said, as he moved to help Mark into a more laid back position, with the baby kind of laying horizontally across his chest. 

 

“There’s a bottle warmer at the nurse’s station, Cersa showed it to me earlier. I’ll get her lunch ready, and uh…” Milo looked at him. “Is there anything you need while I’m out there?” 

 

“Man, you’re on it.” Mark realized. He was really impressed with his boyfriend right then. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Milo was capable of it, his sister was a fertility goddess, so she had probably taught him a lot over the years. But for him to be this focused the day after waking up from a months long coma and discovering he had a kid out of the blue? That made it impressive. “Not unless they have something more substantial than ice chips.” Mark said, glancing to his abandoned cup. Milo gave him a sympathetic look. 

 

“At least for today you’re on a clear liquid diet. But I can see if they have anything else that qualifies.” Milo offered. 

 

“No tea.” Mark said. “I’m rebelling against Cersa’s teas. I’m not pregnant anymore, I don’t have to drink them.”

 

“No tea.” Milo nodded, smirking knowingly. He seemed to understand without asking what Mark’s months long plight had been like. “Coffee?”

 

“Yes, god, yes.” Mark replied. He’d missed caffeine, though he suspected that he missed it mostly because they told him he couldn’t have it. 

 

Milo gave him a nod in acknowledgment before he finally slipped out the door once again.

 

Mark glanced down to the infant in his arms, as she continued to fuss. He tugged her in and kissed her forehead. “Jenn, I promise you, it is not that bad.” he said. “Or are you just traumatized because you had to watch your parents kissing? Yeah, that’s always pretty shocking. I totally get that.” 

 

Mark adjusted his hold on her a little, placing one hand against her back, and gently began to pat her. For whatever reason, that seemed to help her calm down a little, and even though she was still making frustrated sounds at him, it wasn’t the angry, piercing sound it was before.

 

Mark glanced up at a knock at the door, which he didn’t think was Milo, because why would Milo knock? After a moment, (and without waiting for him to answer) Cersa pushed open the door, smiling as she did. 

 

“Hey, Mark.” She said softly, grinning as she approached the bed. “Good to see you’re awake. Last time I saw you, you were so loopy.” 

 

“Oh, that’s good to know. Did I say anything stupid?” He asked. 

 

“You said a lot of stuff.” Cersa snickered. “You cried a little. You told us you were cold. You asked for your mom a lot. Kept trying to point out a window with your IV arm, and we kept having to push it back down.” She shrugged. “Your blood pressure tanked right before the c-section, and that sent everyone into a panic. You had a really hard time staying awake after that, but you survived, and, here you are now.”

 

“I should have had you record it.” Mark snorted a little, as he looked to his little girl.

 

Cersa approached the side of the bed and gently held out her arms for the little bundle. “Do you mind?” She asked. 

 

Mark shook his head. He was still pretty exhausted anyways, and he figured he’d ask for her again when Milo returned, so he could try feeding her. 

 

Cersa gently picked up the baby cradling her expertly. “Ah, look at that.” She said, smiling a little. “The perfect age, too tiny to talk back or get into everything.” 

 

Mark laughed quietly at that. 

 

They spoke in quiet tones for a few minutes, with Cersa telling him everything he’d missed during the delivery. Apparently, Milo had been an ace father, holding his hand, talking him through it, even cutting the cord. He had been watching over Mark and baby like a hawk and insisted on handling most of their care himself, whatever he was allowed to do. (Which made sense to Mark; Milo had a possessive streak a mile wide. He could see the man limiting how much other people could touch him or their child.)

 

They both looked up when Milo came back into the room, holding the warm bottle in a cloth.

 

Cersa smiled, as she went about returning the baby to Mark, and paused, in the middle of it. “Shit, hold on I forgot something.” She said, moving to place the baby against her shoulder for a moment.

 

Milo and Mark glanced at each other. 

 

“What did you forget…?” Mark asked. 

 

“Well see, before she was even born, I gave my precious niece  _ my  _ present.” She hummed a little. “It took a hell of a lot of magic, so I’m gonna be pretty bummed if it didn’t…”

 

She carefully removed the little knit cap Jennifer was wearing, and glanced at the back of her head. Milo narrowed his eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

 

“Ah!” Cersa suddenly laughed joyfully. “It worked! Here, Mark, look.” She said, as she moved in to let Mark get a better look. 

 

_...I thought for sure you were a trick... _

 

Cersa had to push some of the baby’s surprisingly long, dark hair aside. Mark had to sit up a little to get a better view, and…

 

_...you just seemed so clueless about stuff. Things you should have known that you didn’t. _

 

When he saw it he gasped, eyes going wide.

 

_ Leaving him isn’t an option for me. _

 

Right above the nape of Jennifer’s neck, he saw a tiny cluster of bright pink hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very bad character in this chapter threatens another character with child grooming. If you know what that is and it's something you're sensitive to, feel free to skip the first half or so of this chapter. Just scroll down to "Suddenly, Damien moved in front of Mark..." and you should be good.
> 
> I would normally say just skip the whole chapter but the ending is kind of important if you plan to keep reading. I mean, it's not going to be a surprise, I'm pretty sure everyone is aware of what's going on by now, haha. I warned ya'll I'm not good at being subtle.
> 
> Okay, so I don't really have much else to add. Like I should explain the sea nymph powers, or Damien's hormonal reaction to Mark's fucked up hormones right now, but I don't really want to, and I have to get up in four hours for school, so... That's probably a relief, no one misses my rambling. xD
> 
> But like. So I want to know.
> 
> Anyone else think Mark reacting to Part and Service Bonnie for the first time was the best goddamn thing in the world? I died replaying that over and over. I just. Jesus Christ. I can't. _I can't._


	13. I Am the Fire

Milo didn’t notice Mark’s reaction right away, he just shot Cersa an annoyed look. “You gave her pink hair?” He asked her, as he set the bottle down on the nightstand.

 

“They’re just pink to make them stand out. Well, that and they’re Mark’s color, but you know.” She said. “They’re actually little protection spells, there’s about twenty of them. If, when she gets older, she happens to find herself in trouble, all she’ll have to do is pluck one, wrap it around her finger, and it’ll do whatever she needs to be done. But once they’re gone, they’re gone, so she needs to be a little careful how she uses them.” 

 

Mark paled rapidly at that, but no one seemed to notice.

 

Milo sighed a little, leaning slightly over the bed, and Mark, to get a better look. “Well, I suppose once her hair grows out, we could just conceal it in a ponytail…” He trailed off, humming low as he thought it over.

 

“I’m going to be sick.” Mark announced. 

 

That got both the siblings attention right away. Surprised, Milo moved into action, grabbing one of those peanut shaped trays from the storage area under the supply cabinet. He let Mark hold it while he helped move the man into a sitting up position so that he wouldn’t choke on anything, and gently rubbed the man’s back in small circles. Mark didn’t actually have anything to throw up, but his body sure tried. Cersa stood close by, concerned, cradling Jenn as the baby began to fuss. It figured she could tell when her parents were distressed. 

 

“Shit.” Cersa whispered, as she hovered close by. She reached out like she wanted to help, but didn’t seem to be sure of what to do. “Was it something I said?”

 

Once Mark’s stomach had settled down, Milo glanced up to Cersa. “Can you give us a minute?” He asked her. 

 

Cersa looked like she wanted to protest, but she eventually nodded. She leaned over the bed to hand Jenn over to Milo, before she finally, sheepishly, made her way out the door.

 

With Jenn back in his arms, Milo moved to sit next to Mark on the bed. Mark had kind of curled in on himself after his body’s sudden rebellion, with one of his hands pressed against his head, like he was trying to stave off pressure. Milo slid an arm around his shoulders and gently tugged him in. “What happened?” Milo asked him. 

 

Mark let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, dragging his hand down his face as he turned to look at Milo. “When I was in hell, looking for you, I ran into a girl.” 

 

Milo nodded. “Yes, I recall.” He said.

 

“She had pink hair.” Mark said. “But it was more than that. It was magic hair, and it acted just like Cersa described right now.” He said. 

 

Milo seemed a tad more surprised at that. “So you’re telling me… you saw her.” He said. “You saw our daughter.”

 

“Milo it had to have been her.” Mark nodded. “She used two of her hairs on me.” Mark said, dismayed. “Fuck, no wonder she was so confused. She was down there trying to save… I don’t know… I don’t think it was you. I can’t imagine you tolerating that shit. It was me, wasn’t it? She said she had been dragged down there, and her dad traded places with her.” Mark realized. “Fuck, Milo, I traded myself to save her and she just comes right the hell back, she comes back for me.” 

 

Mark was starting to pant now, his blood pressure started to rise rapidly. Milo seemed to sense this., and he tugged Mark in, gently. “Mark, calm down.” 

 

I can’t calm down, this is our daughter we’re talking about!” Mark snapped at him. “…it’s the box, right? She must find the box and try to open it. We have to get rid of it, or…”

 

“Wait.” Milo interrupted him. “We’ve established before, that getting rid of it would be a bad thing.” He said.

 

“But this is our kid we’re talking about.” Mark said, growing angry. “When you have kids you don’t keep an unlocked gun in the house. You take safety precautions. You put it in a… a locked box, or...”

 

“Mark, it’s in a locked box now.” Milo interrupted again. “If we’re going to assume that all of this is true, and that you really did see our daughter in hell…” Milo said. “How do you know that it’s not us trying to get rid of the box in some way that eventually leads her to finding it?” He asked. 

 

Mark’s face fell a little at that. Milo did have a point about that.

 

Milo continued. “I’m not trying to be an ass.” he said. “But I’ve had years and years of experience travelling down there. And yeah, it’s possible that you saw her, but it’s also possible that you saw an echo of what could happen. Remember? Hell’s kind of a messed up place.” Milo told him, and Mark nodded. 

 

“Well what can we do then?” Mark asked him. “I don’t want Jenn going through all of that. She’s our baby.” He said dismally. “How can we protect her if we don’t know what to look out for?”

 

Milo shrugged softly. “I’m not sure.” he said. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep an eye on her. It’s on us as her parents to protect her. We’re just… we don’t have enough information right now to make any sort of concrete plan for that eventuality.” Milo said. 

 

“But Milo-”

 

“Mark. We’re going to protect her, and raise her to be ready for anything. That’s all we can do.” He said. “There’s no sense in worrying about it right now.”

 

But Mark couldn’t help but to worry about it. That was about when he realized. If Jenn was going to make that march through hell, then it was all on him to make sure she would survive it. 

 

He had, maybe, ten years. 

 

He figured that would be time enough to come up with a plan.

 

~~

 

Later that evening Mark was finally cleared to begin moving on his own again, and naturally the first thing he wanted was to take a shower. Even though the staff had done a good job getting him cleaned up for the surgery, they really just kind of concentrated on where they were going to be working. That meant that he still had areas where he had splotches of mud covering him, from the strange storm the day before. The doctor said he was okay with Mark getting cleaned up, so long as he had someone there to keep an eye on him, and Mark was amused to see that he didn’t even have to ask, Milo was on it. Virgil and Calypso arrived to take a shift and were left in charge of Jenn.

 

They both swore up and down to the doctor that there would be no funny business. (It’s not like there was going to be room in that shower for anything fun anyways.) They were both going to be in swim trunks and it was going to be fine.

 

But then they got in there and the first thing Mark did was push Milo up against the tile and kiss the life out of him. Hey, Mark understood that now there was a kid in the picture, they were going to have fewer and fewer opportunities for this sort of thing, and right then, he was just so happy to have Milo, he didn’t care that it put pressure on his incision, nor that the lack of oxygen was making him dizzy. For months this was all he could think about, having Milo alive and vibrant and naked under his fingertips. 

 

It didn’t last too long. After a moment his limbs began to shake, his knees growing weak from the pain in his abdomen, and Milo seemed to sense it. He broke the kiss, gently pressed his lips to Mark’s forehead, and turned him around, pulling Mark to lean against his chest as they both faced the wam spray. Mark sighed a little, letting the warmth of the water, the warmth of Milo’s skin against his, relax him and his sore muscles. The other man slid his arms under Mark’s gently holding him close, supporting him as he crossed his arms over Mark’s chest. 

 

Mark closed his eyes, tipping his head back to rest against Milo’s shoulder, drawing a deep, rumbling chuckle out of the other man. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.” Milo noted softly, sliding one of his hands up to draw his fingers through Mark’s damp hair. 

 

“Look.” Mark said, opening up one eye to give Milo a look. “It’s been a day. Month. Several months.” Mark sighed, raising a hand up to gently grip the arm that was still wrapped around him. “If I want to fall asleep in the shower, knowing that my boyfriend is alive and well enough to catch me, I’m gonna fucking do it.” 

 

He just stood there for a moment, letting the spray catch him, before he finally worked up the nerve to glance down at the incision. It honestly didn’t look that terrible. There was no giant bandage, all the stitches were done internally. There was a small line that ran across his belly, but there was none of the blood or anything like he was expecting. After all, they were taking out everything, not just Jenn, but the womb that Cersa had created had to go too. So he expected the scar to be a lot bigger. 

 

He still felt like he was huge, but Cersa assured him that most of it was just swelling, and what he was left with he could just work off. Like it was just that easy.

 

They weren’t allowed to scrub at the incision, but letting the water run over it was fine. Milo took it upon himself to actually clean the rest of him. It hadn’t been something Mark had actually thought of, but Cersa had packed travel sizes of his own body soap and hair products, and right about then, Mark was thinking it was genius, just because the scent of them, him and Milo, was a lot nicer than the antiseptic scent of the clinic. Milo was very gentle with him, scrubbing out the mud and sweat and the film left behind from old rainwater.

 

It wasn’t the spa or anything close to that, but it was better than anything Mark had ever hoped to have again.    
  
When the water finally began to run cold they decided to get out. Again, Milo gently set him against the wall, as he carefully patted him down with a towel. As he was drying off Mark’s legs, Milo glanced up to him. “What do you want to do once you’re cleared to go?” Milo asked him.

 

It was about then that Mark realized that they hadn’t actually planned for that. “Ah. I don’t know.” he admitted. “I really want to go home.” He told Milo. “But I think… I get the feeling…” 

  
“You should see your family.” Milo told him.

 

Mark nodded softly. “I haven’t even talked to them since before we ended up in Hell. They don’t know… anything. If I’m alive or dead, even. Damien told us we couldn’t risk it.” 

 

“Well, Damien’s job is done, now.” Milo pointed out. “Now that I’m back it’s my job to protect you and Jenn. So if you’d like to tell your family, I think you should.” 

 

“Yeah.” Mark said, and he was actually a little relieved. “What do I say though? I disappeared for months, and now I’m coming back with a kid.” he pointed out. “They’re gonna think it’s weird.” 

 

“Well, why don’t you tell them the truth?” Milo put out there.

 

“Um.” Mark looked at Milo sort of like he’d lost his mind. “I think you know why that would be a bad idea. They’re going to have a lot of questions about this. About us.” 

 

“Okay, and when they start to notice that she has my eyes and your ears? You don’t think that’s going to raise questions?” Milo sagely pointed out. 

 

“I mean. We could say that we had one of your family member’s for a surrogate.” Mark suggested. But then, he made a face at his own idea. Because the suggestion of them using a surrogate just kind of took away from what he’d done.  _ He  _ was the one to carry this kid for nine months.  _ He  _ was the one who went into labor with her,  _ he  _ protected her,  _ he  _ was the one who had to watch what he was eating for months to make sure that she came out healthy. Attributing that work to someone else kind of made him feel like all of that work was diminished. Like his role in things wasn’t all that important, when he was the one making every sacrifice for her. Yeah, it seemed silly, and it occurred to him that he might be a little too proud here, but dammit, he was proud. He was proud of Jenn, and he was proud of himself for everything he’d done to bring her into the world. 

 

“But that would take away from your triumph.” Milo echoed his thoughts. “And you’re the one who did all the work.”

 

“I mean, I don’t need the recognition, I don’t. Honestly.” He said. “But there’s something about it… claiming that we used a surrogate, or worse, saying she came out of a test tube… it kind of feels like it minimizes it. I bonded with that kid, she’s mine.” Mark said. 

 

“Then just tell them the truth.” Milo said. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions they may have.” 

 

“Really?” Mark asked. Because Milo really seemed to value his privacy. He didn’t like talking about himself or his past. It was one of the reasons Mark had never even suggested bringing Milo to meet anyone., because he knew his family (and his friends, honestly) would have a lot to ask of this strange new guy in his life. And the way they met hadn’t exactly been ideal. They needed that privacy, and time to grow into the relationship and work on things. So Milo offering all of this was huge.

 

“Really.” Milo said. “Just maybe we keep it in the family, as much as we can, at least for now.” He said.

 

“I have no problem with that, whatsoever.” Mark told him. Milo was on board with not lying to his family, he didn't really care about what the internet at large thought about things. And though he thought he was pretty resilient to the commentary these days, he didn’t think he was quite in a good enough place to handle the outcry that the truth about Jenn would invoke. He was already protective of her to an insane degree, and he didn’t think he could handle criticism regarding her just yet.

 

Milo tossed the towel he was using aside, moving his hands along Mark's thighs, up his side, around to his back as he stood, leaning in to kiss him as he gently pinned Mark to the wall. Mark whined, sliding his hands up Milo’s chest to gently grip his shoulders.

 

"My mom is gonna give you so much shit." Mark warned once they broke the kiss, but he was secretly kind of looking forward to that too. 

 

Milo just kind of shrugged, his hands were rubbing soothing circles along the muscles of his back. "Nothing less could be expected. Trust me, it doesn't scare me as much as my own mother does." 

 

"Good point." Mark replied.

 

~~

 

A couple of days later Mark and Jenn were finally cleared to go to Cersa’s home, under the condition that Mark wasn't to do much all that physical, and he couldn't carry anything heavier than Jenn's dainty six pounds 8 ounces. (Seriously, he thought he was carrying a much heavier baby this whole time.) Honestly, he was totally fine with those stipulations. Even though he was walking around and doing his own care he still felt like someone had stabbed him repeatedly in the stomach. Which, technically. He was still getting the occasional dizzy spell too, which had kind of necessitated that someone stick around to keep an eye on him at all times. 

 

Which had led to a somewhat interesting phenomena, interesting at least to Mark.

 

But it almost seemed like Milo, now that he was back in the picture, was trying to compete with Virgil. Which was honestly kind of funny to Mark, because Mark had no real romantic feelings for Virgil. The man was closer in age to him than Milo, Cersa, or Damien. Virgil did have a tendency to want to step in and help Mark, but Mark understood that that was just Virgil's chivalric personality. He was a good man, a defender, always trying to protect those that needed it. Even still, it was bizarrely humorous to Mark to watch Milo bristle whenever Virgil would try to help him with something. 

 

Mark noticed it for the first time when he was sitting on the couch with Jenn, trying to feed her while she was insisting on being fussy. Sometimes he had the feeling that she wanted his attention more than she wanted to eat. Which was fine. But also. She needed to eat and stop arguing with him, before he began to worry that she was getting underweight or something. That might have been a silly fear to have, but he felt like she was still so little. It seemed worse knowing that most other babies came in at seven pounds and it worried him. Dr. Storm had suggested that she was just this little because Mark’s male physique couldn’t physically give her the room she needed to grow, and of course that made him feel worse.

 

While he was trying to talk her into taking her bottle Virgil came over and sat beside Mark for moral support. He wasn’t even sitting particularly close, there was, maybe, six inches between them. But for whatever reason, Milo saw that and decided he needed to sit between them. He actually came over to the couch and edged Virgil off of it almost entirely, spreading out wide as he slid an arm around Mark’s shoulders and gently tugged him and Jenn into his side. Mark was so stunned he didn’t quite know how to react as he sank kind of helplessly into Milo, quickly readjusting Jenn’s position as he did. Virgil seemed a little stunned, but he wordlessly took the hint and found another place to sit. 

 

There was another incident though that really kind of sealed things for him. 

 

Mark was walking from the bathroom back towards the living room when he got hit with a particularly bad dizzy spell. He tried to catch himself by grabbing onto the wall, but his fingers slid along the surface, and before he knew it the ground was rising up to meet him. Milo hadn’t noticed immediately, but Virgil, who was standing on the opposite end of the hallway immediately came over and caught him. Milo finally noticed as Virgil very carefully frog-walked Mark back towards the living room and set him in a chair. And Milo wasn’t too happy about it. 

 

That time heated words were exchanged, but Virgil quickly backed off again, finding somewhere else to go while Milo tended to Mark.

 

Milo, was  _ jealous  _ of Virgil. 

 

Which Mark didn’t quite know what to think of, at least not yet. But since Milo hadn’t come to blows over it, Mark decided to just classify Milo’s behavior as ‘interesting’. At least for now.

 

~~

 

It was a week into Mark’s recovery that they moved, as a family, back to Los Angeles. They ended up renting a truck to do it, and Virgil, naturally, helped. (He was also naturally pretty relieved to go back to his own apartment and not have to crash on Milo’s couch anymore.) Setting up a nursery for Jenn ended up going a lot more smoothly than Mark anticipated too. They just transitioned an unused guest bedroom and put all of her stuff from the baby shower in there. There was still stuff that she needed, (like a changing table, but for now changing her on a towel on the bathroom counter seemed to be working fine,) and they really needed to paint the walls to make the room more suitable for a baby, but considering how hectic everything had been up until this point, this was fine. This was a start, and considering that Jenn would be sleeping in his and Milo’s room until she was a little bit older, he knew they had time to fix her room up the way they wanted it.

 

Milo absolutely, positively, forbid Mark from letting Jenn sleep next to them, even for naps. Milo told him if they started that business even this early on, she’d be climbing into bed with them until she was ten, and they definitely didn’t want that. Mark had a hard time with it at first, but he eventually adapted. Milo made it up to him with a lot of soft touching, leisurely kissing, and intimate attention. Mark wasn’t recovered enough yet to really have sex, but having this affection was more than enough for him in the meantime. Mark reacted to it like he’d been touch-starved, all these months without Milo’s attention. Which he thought was a little ridiculous; while he’d been pregnant he was getting touched everywhere, from people helping him up, to kissing his cheek, to rubbing his neck and back when he was sore, never mind how invasive the prenatal appointments could be.. He’d nearly forgotten what a personal space bubble was. But none of those things had been from Milo, which one would suppose was the key factor. Mark had sincerely missed Milo.

 

When Mark was two weeks into his recovery, Dr. Storm made a special trip out from Phoenix to check the incision, and declared it to be healing wonderfully. As a sort of reward, Milo went out that afternoon, and finally, finally replaced Mark’s old phone. (“Try not to chuck this one at a tree.” Milo said half-sarcastically.)

 

With the phone set up (which he had done with Jenn sleeping on his arm. He had the feeling that he was going to learn how to do a lot of things one handed, now that he had her.) there was now technically no excuse not to call home. It just felt so bizarre. He'd been in exile for so long, something that Milo had kept up for the initial part of Mark's recovery period, that it almost felt weird knowing he was about to end things and return to the modern era. It made him nervous. 

 

It took Milo’s gentle coaxing, with the man reaching for him from behind the chair he was sitting in, gently wrapping his arms around him. Mark leaned back a bit in the gentle hold, smiling softly, as he turned and nuzzled against the other man’s neck. 

 

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Milo whispered, as he gave Mark a squeeze. 

 

“Gonna hold you to that.” With Milo’s support, he finally facetimed his mom.

 

~~

 

There was naturally a lot of mixed, stunned reactions from his family, and Mark found he couldn’t answer every question, (Or that he just didn’t want to answer, like when the question of how exactly, he and Milo had met had come up.) But true to his word, Milo explained what he could, and he was extraordinarily patient. Which for Milo was saying something, because Milo did not have an abundance of patience.

 

He ended up talking to his mom for at least three hours. (Then she got his brother on the line, and then slowly, they began the process of informing everyone else that he was okay.) It was a lot to get through, and when it was beginning to become obvious that Mark was getting tired, Milo cut the entire thing off, using Jenn as an excuse for the two of them having to end the call.

 

They understood that there was really only one more thing to do after that. Work out a time that they could bring Jenn to actually meet everyone, (and pick up Chica, who it turned out, had been staying with his mother, after she took over Mark’s estate.)

 

After the emotional upheaval of that phone call Mark seriously needed a nap, and fortunately, Milo was totally willing to accommodate him by taking over with Jenn. 

 

Mark had no idea how he might have done this whole parenting thing without Milo.

 

A couple hours later Mark woke up to Jenn napping in her bassinet close to the bed, and the smell of whatever Milo was cooking downstairs. As if sensing that Mark was beginning to wake up, Jenn began to fuss, and that put to bed any thoughts that Mark might have had about dozing further.

 

Mark got up, changed Jenn's diaper, and went to check on Milo. Milo, as it turned out, was putting the finishing touches on a pot of spaghetti and meatballs, which just sounded fantastic to Mark right about then.

 

"That looks amazing." Mark told him as he moved into the kitchen with their sobbing child. "Hope she'll let me eat it." 

 

"She'll have to be sated with me tending to her, much as her heart seems to prefer you." Milo told Mark with a grin. "Don't make her another bottle, I already have one set up for her and waiting in the warmer." 

 

"She doesn't prefer me, she's just used to hearing me telling her how she's grounded." Mark murmured. 

 

“Yes. How grounded is she now?” Milo asked, as he moved to grab two dinner plates. 

 

“I don’t know. How long do immortals live?” Mark asked, as he swiped the bottle from the warmer. He had to shift his hold on Jenn so he could test the temperature on his hand, because yeah, they weren’t supposed to get very hot, but the one at the nurse’s station in Phoenix felt like it got way hot, so that naturally meant that he trusted none of these things now.

 

“Forever.” Milo readily supplied, even though that was obvious. It was implied by the word itself.

 

“That’s how long she’s grounded.” Mark decided, finally deciding that the bottle was a good temperature and offering it to Jenn. When she was really upset she would leave him hanging for a good couple of seconds, but now was apparently not one of those times. She latched on and began to eat. He made his way over to the table and sat down heavily in only one of the dinner chairs with arms. He liked to rest his elbows on it when he fed her, or held her, or whatever. Milo eventually came over with a plate of spaghetti, with two sizeable meatballs and a small salad portioned off in a smaller plate. It looked amazing, and he hoped he’d get the chance to eat it while it was still hot. Even when Milo took her so he could eat, sometimes she’d fuss. Milo always tried to act like he was unaffected by it, but Mark could tell that it got to him. He couldn’t blame him, either. He’d missed out on a lot while he was in that coma, and while he’d charged into that fatherhood role admirably, he could tell there was a bit of a disconnect. He hadn’t spent all those months bonding with her that Mark had. She didn’t react to Milo like she did for him, or Cersa, or Virgil, or even Damien. He knew that couldn’t feel good, especially since he knew that if Milo had any other choice, he’d have been there.

 

Once he’d gotten everything set up, Milo came over and gently took Jenn and the bottle so that Mark could eat. “Better hurry.” Milo teased as he took the little girl, and she gave a disgruntled sound. She quieted down again when Milo offered her the bottle once more. Mark didn’t have to be told twice. 

 

As he picked at his dinner Milo went and took the seat across from him. The man was speaking to her in very gentle tones, bless him, he was trying. As Mark spun some of the pasta around his fork, he had a thought. 

 

“Hey.” He said, grabbing Milo’s attention. “You should give me control of all your medical decisions for the next time you fall into a coma.” he said.

 

Milo blinked. Then he blinked again. “What…?”

 

“And I mean.” Mark continued, only a lot more quietly. “Obviously. The same would go for… me.. For you.” he said.

 

“I am not following the progression of this thought you’re having.” Milo admitted after a moment. “Is this something that’s been on your mind, or…?”

 

“I think, maybe talking with mom today kind of made me think about it.” Mark said. Because his mother was in charge of his accounts, Milo had to be the one to buy his phone. Something Mark hadn’t thought about. Since he was technically missing, his mother had taken control of his finances, making sure that the house payments continued, so he wouldn’t be homeless upon his return to Los Angeles, (should he ever) and that was fine. For Milo, obviously, his power of attorney was Cersa. She took charge of everything for him while he was ill, made sure his apartment was paid for, tracked down his car when it got impounded, and generally just made sure he’d have a life to come back to. Not to mention what she did for Mark and Jenn for those months, doting on him, keeping him healthy. While Mark could say that he was in this situation in the first place because of her, he also understood that neither he nor Jenn would have survived without her. 

 

Milo nodded, as Jenn finished off her bottle and began to grow agitated again. He took the towel from the table and placed it against his shoulder so that he could burp her, gently rubbing her back to help ease the process. “So what you’re saying…” 

 

“I mean, we’re kind of... we’re a family now. We have a daughter.” Mark said. “And I feel like we need to… if anything should ever happen, we should maybe make things more… official?” Mark through out there.

 

“Ah…” Milo trailed off a bit, narrowing his eyes a little in Mark’s direction. “Is this your way of proposing to me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the other man.

 

“I mean… no… but… yes?” Mark said, looking to him. “I mean there clearly needs to be some kind of plan in place. If something happens to me…” Mark tried not to think about his possible future in Hell. “...or to you…” He tried not to think about how Milo was clearly no longer in the picture around the time his premonition took place. “I want there to be some kind of plan in place to take care of her.” He said. “And if the easiest way to do that is for us to get married…” 

 

“No.” Milo said. Then he placed a placating hand out to soothe Mark. He must have made a face or something. “Don’t give me that heartbroken look. Let me explain.” 

 

“Okay…” Mark said, and he rested his fork against the plate. His stomach was churning now. He didn’t understand how he could go from mellow to nervous so fast, but there you go.

 

“It’s because… this?” Milo said, gesturing to their surroundings. “This isn’t terribly romantic, and that was a terrible proposal.” he said. 

 

“I mean, it was kind of on the spot…”

 

“I know, I get it.” Milo cut him off. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right. I mean…” Milo sighed. “Look, when we first met, officially, I was a complete dipshit to you.” 

 

Mark kind of winced at the memory, but yeah. He had been, and granted, most of that ‘I am the villain here’ thing had been complete bullshit, Milo stroking his own ego and Mark understood that now, but back then, it had scared the piss out of him. “Milo…”

 

“No, let me finish.” Milo said. “At the time I didn’t think much about it, but then I spent the next year watching the effect that it had on you.” He said. “There were times when you would flinch when I touched you, and I don’t think you even noticed. And the nightmares…”

 

“The nightmares had nothing to do with you…” Mark tried to argue, but Milo shook his head.

 

“The point being…” Milo said firmly. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. Okay? Sometime after we introduce Jenn to your family, after you’ve recovered completely, after we get all of this shit straightened out, we’re going to leave Jenn with Cersa, and I’m going to romance the shit out of you.” He said. “We’re going to have a wonderful night, and I’m not so sure what that’s all going to entail yet, but I’m going to find us some place nice and secluded, and  _ I _ will propose to  _ you _ , with a nice goddamn ring, and we’ll seal the whole thing off with a kiss under the moonlight.” he said. “If we do one thing, then I want to build this relationship, whatever it ends up being, wherever we end up in life, off of something positive. Reinforced in the love we have for each other.” He said. “That’s why I’m saying no to you now. It’s not always going to be a no. It’s a no, just for right now. Until I have the chance to do this the right way.” 

 

Mark felt the butterflies in his stomach disperse. He sank back a little in his chair, feeling a sense of relief. “That… sounds amazing.” he admitted. “Milo, I had no idea you’d been thinking about all of this.” He said. 

 

“Well, it’s something that’s been on  _ my  _ mind.” Milo told him, as Jenn finally, loudly burped against his shoulder. Almost immediately, she began to grow fussy, and Milo glanced back to Mark. “But we can discuss that when she’s sleeping.” he said. “You should eat while you still can.”

 

“Right.” Mark said, as he began to dig into his plate again. This conversation, maybe it had been needed. He felt a little bit better about things and about life in general, now.

 

~~

 

Two weeks after that Mark was able to take Jenn and Milo back home and introduce them to his family. It was a little awkward, especially with all the various, intrusive questions everyone had, but again, Milo was patient. His family was pretty reluctant to approve of him, but when it became obvious that Mark was serious about their relationship, they eventually got off his ass. Jenn they loved of course. She was accepted immediately, even if she was a little unsure of them. Mark really hoped she got over her stranger danger fears fast because, well. It was him. There were going to be people around. Not much he could do about it at this point.

 

He was slowly coming back around to his friends, too. The people who’d been most worried about him. The word was starting to get around that he was back, and he was slowly reintegrating back into his old life. The only thing he had left to do was think about how he was going to try and come back to his career, and how he would handle that. 

 

Just experimentally, he finally used his new phone to tweet out something, figuring that would be the best way, so he could gauge people’s responses to him first.

 

And he. Was. Floored. 

 

It wasn’t even anything that deep. Just a selfie of himself looking tired, with the caption. “Still alive. Anyone out there?” 

 

Immediately he began to get responses, the internet wasted no time at all to freak out over his return, bombard him with questions, and surprisingly, most of it was just pure concern. People who were just glad he was okay. There was the occasional outbursts of anger and irritation, but they were actually few and far between. 

 

It was nice to think that, no matter how he fucked up, there were people out there who would continue to support him.

 

~~

 

Mark eventually uploaded a new video, when he was seven weeks along, and fully recovered. It was short, because Jenn wasn’t really feeling it. (Yes, of course he had to introduce his baby to his audience, she was his baby and he loved her.)  He didn’t give them the entire story, like he did with his family, because it was honestly a lot to swallow. The cover story for now, was that he and his boyfriend had gone to Arizona to meet with a surrogate, and he had some kind of attack that led to the emergency surgery. (And he couldn’t inform anyone because he’d chucked his phone at a tree.) There were naturally a few holes in his story, and some of the smarter ones were pretty quick to point it out, but it wasn’t all that severe. 

 

What mattered was that things were finally beginning to become normal again. This gradual reemergence had been good too. At first he’d been frustrated with how he’d been taking things so slowly, but he was glad that Milo had been so insistent. He was thankful that the man was there to help take care of him, to look out for things that he might not have thought of if he’d been doing this on his own. That Milo wouldn’t allow him to push himself before he was really ready to.

 

Later in the afternoon, after he’d posted the video he was left alone in the home with Jenn. Milo had needed to square some things away with his own job, and he’d left earlier that morning for San Diego. It wasn’t exactly a short trip, but he didn’t think it would take him all day, either, so Mark was looking forward to spending time with him once he came back. 

 

In the meantime, he was experimenting with playtime with Jenn. 

 

So far, Jenn had been a great baby. She ate without much fuss, and quickly made up for her birth weight being on the low side. She was happy, and healthy. She hated being on the floor for her tummy time, but if she was doing it on top of Mark or Milo’s chest, she was pretty content. She still seemed to prefer Mark over Milo, but she was getting to the point where she was fine being alone with either of them. 

 

That day she actually managed to stay on her tummy for more than a couple of minutes before she seemed to get tired. So Mark swept her back into his arms and took her upstairs to sleep in the bassinet. That was her second nap of the day, so Mark figured he’d be able to go to the bathroom, get some work done. He had so much to catch up on, it was absolutely ridiculous. 

 

He headed into the bathroom, did his business, and as he began to head out, he heard Chica whimpering. He paused by the bedroom door. He could feel the static of magic pricking at his skin, something he was very familiar with at this point. In a state of panic, Mark threw open the bedroom door.

 

Standing over the bassinet, and his beautiful, innocent, sleeping child, was Milo’s she-demon of a mother. Shit, it had been almost a year since the last time he’d seen her, and he was still pissed over the whole selling him down the river, literally, thing. 

 

“Get. Out.” Mark demanded, as the woman slowly turned to face him.

 

“I’m sorry.” She said, as she held up a hand in Mark’s direction. Mark hissed a little, feeling the impact of her magic suddenly bracing him, keeping him frozen in place. At least at this point, he was familiar with that trick. “I have every right to see this child.”

 

“You gave up that right when you sold me out to the war goddesses. When you stood by and did nothing while Milo was sick and dying.” Mark told her pointedly. “If you do anything to her...”

 

“You’re in no position to threaten me.” Milo’s mother said, and Mark felt the breath stolen out of him as he was teleported away.

 

In her crib, Jenn began to fuss. Uninhibited, Milo’s mother reached in, gently taking the little girl, talking to her softly, encouraging her to quiet down.

 

~~

 

Mark woke up to complete darkness. Or did he wake up? Had he ever passed out? He didn’t feel that typical grogginess one would when having been asleep. He tried to place a hand out in front of him and he couldn’t. He was only able to raise it up a couple of inches, but otherwise it was pinned down by his hips. Startled by that revelation, he raised his head up without thinking and smacked it against something hard.

 

He was in a fucking coffin. A tiny, cheap one too, lined with satin and nothing else. Milo’s mother didn’t even have the decency to get him a pillow. 

 

If he hadn’t immediately set into panic he might have been able to think this situation out logically. He would know to take smaller breaths, to reduce the amount of air he would need. He would have remembered that Milo should have probably already been on his way home, and would probably find him, if he could just hold on. Maybe if he worked at it he could even reach his phone and call the man. Instead, panic set in hard and Mark began to pant, struggling uselessly. 

 

The coffin didn’t creak, didn’t budge even slightly. Was he already buried? Was there a ton of dirt sitting on top of him? 

 

If he was buried six feet deep then it didn’t matter what he did. He could hardly move in this box, much less beat his way out of there and dig his way to the surface. He might have been recovered from his surgery, but that didn’t mean he was completely back to how he was before. There was no way for him to dig himself to the surface. He was trapped there and he was going to suffocate and die. He didn’t know if it was the panic setting in, but he thought that maybe he could already feel it happening. His lungs flared in sudden pain, as his body uselessly gasped, receiving only stale air in return. 

 

He vaguely recalled seeing a video that talked about how to do this. He was supposed to keep his cool and drive his feet up into the lid of the coffin. But the longer he struggled, the harder it was to put any kind of force behind the motion. 

 

He began to feel like the coffin was moving, wavering somehow, like he was in the ocean instead of six feet under. His lungs were burning. He couldn’t tell whether or not he was closing his eyes anymore, they’d just never adjusted. It began to hurt trying to move his legs.

 

Was he dying?

 

Somehow it felt a lot worse than he’d always suspected. His muscles were contracting beyond his control, his body trying to tense and curl around itself protectively, but naturally, he couldn’t move. He was just smacking into the sides of the coffin, over and over. If he survived this, he was going to be covered in bruises, but the longer this went on, the more he gave up on the hope that he’d be rescued. 

 

As his consciousness began to fade, all he could think about was Jenn, and how he’d left her alone in that house with that psychopath. That was the part about this that hurt the most.

 

He felt that prickling of magic again, a heat moving through him, starting at the base of his spine and rollicking along his skin. Mark tensed up harder when it felt like two hands grabbed his arms, two clawed hands. For a brief moment he felt like he was falling, and then...

 

He felt a mouth tickling delicately at the back of his neck, teeth dangerously close to piercing the important arteries that lay beneath the skin there. 

 

Was he hallucinating this? Or was he already dead?

 

Then there was a voice, the sound of it rumbled deep as it moved through him. It didn’t sound like it was coming from outside of him. It was more like it was in his head, rattling around amongst his thoughts.

 

“I promised you, didn’t I?” The voice whispered in his ear. “Let me take over, and I will protect Jennifer.” 

 

Unable to speak enough to get the words out, Mark simply nodded. 

 

Power like he’d never felt before surged through him, and Mark became insensate.

 

~~

 

It had been a long drive, and a long morning for Milo. A morning that began at 4am, until now, which was bordering on one, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Mark alone for longer than he had to. Not as a new parent, with a sometimes fussy baby. He was just starting to really feel back to normal again, and Milo wanted to continue to encourage the process, without Mark overworking himself the way he was sometimes tempted too. 

 

But as soon as he pushed open the door, Chica came bounding down the stairs, whimpering loudly. Concerned, Milo knelt down beside her, trying to comfort the animal. “What’s going on, girl?” he asked. She cast a look at the steps she had just come down, and Milo felt his stomach sink.    
  
“Mark?” He called out. He wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer, thinking that maybe Jenn was just sleeping and Mark didn’t want to wake her. He didn’t want to let himself panic too soon. He had the ability to conjure up any number of nightmare scenarios, but he didn’t want to give into fear until he understood the situation.

 

Then, Jenn let out a piercing wail. A sound escaping her that he’d never heard before, and panic shot through Milo. It was almost like someone was hurting her.

 

Milo threw down everything he’d been carrying and ran up the stairs.

 

When he opened the bedroom door he didn’t see Mark trying to comfort the girl. No, it was his mother, holding his little girl while Jenn struggled, even as an infant seeming to understand that this woman did not have her best interests in mind, and with Mark nowhere to be found.

 

“Mother!” Milo said sharply.

 

The woman paused, looking up from the infant grasped in her arms to level him with a look that he’d felt the weight of far too often. As a child he’d felt paralyzed under it. As a child he knew but never understood his mother’s apparent disdain for him. He just knew that he and Cersa were never treated equally. The expectations were different for him, and that was why he’d eventually removed himself from the situation. 

 

Now here she was, holding his child and his boyfriend nowhere to be found. 

 

“What have you done with Mark?” Milo asked first. Because he could see Jenn, and see that she was fine, even if she was upset at being in the arms of that woman (and he couldn’t blame her at all,) but Mark, who would have thrown himself without thinking into danger just to protect her was nowhere to be found. He needed to know where Mark was, and as his mother’s face twisted into a dangerous smile, Milo began to fear that something terrible had happened to him. “Mother what did you do!?” He demanded. 

 

“She needs to be with her family.” His mother answered simply. Milo shook his head.

 

“Mark and I are her family.” Milo told her pointedly. “We’re her parents, she needs us.” Milo growled. “Now answer my question. What did you do to Mark?” He demanded.

 

His mother snorted, as she glanced back down into the face of the sobbing child. “I’ve stored him in a safe place.” She told him. “If you wish you can look for him… though there’s probably not much left to save by now.” 

 

Milo looked to her in horror. “What have you… What did you do!” He demanded. 

 

His mother gave him an angry look. “Inside voices.” She scolded him, holding up Jenn like  _ he  _ was the one upsetting her, here.

 

“Fuck your rules, you incessant harpy!” Milo shouted, and he moved to his mother in anger. He didn’t know what he was going to do, whether he was going to hurt her or simply take his daughter back. But before he could reach her he felt the house pitch violently. Jenn continued to scream loudly, as both Milo and his mother stumbled, struggling to keep their balance. It felt like a supporting wall had been blown in on the bottom floor, because the house continued to move and sway. All at once, what sounded like every fire alarm in the house began to go off, and following it, the sharp smell of smoke. 

 

As the house continued to rock unnaturally, the door behind them suddenly splintered inwards, sending shards of wood raining inwards. Milo watched as his mother tried to shield the infant, and he found himself relieved that at the very least, those motherly instincts weren’t so dead that she would leave his daughter unguarded from the onslaught. 

 

Smoke began to swirl in the room. Fearing what the danger would be, Milo tried to grab Jenn from his mother, only for the woman to pull her away, just out of his grasp. The house shook again. Milo lost his balance, one of his knees crashing into the once sturdy floor. 

 

Suddenly the smoke dissipated and there stood Mark. But, Milo noticed right away. Something had changed. That  _ wasn’t  _ his boyfriend standing there, it just  _ looked  _ like him. It was most obvious in the eyes, the dark color that had replaced them. It made him look like he’d been skinned and someone else had pulled that flesh cover around them. Infernal fire seemed to swirl around him, catching onto the carpet, the curtains. It spread quickly as Mark moved into the room. Slowly, Mark raised a hand to point in the direction of Milo’s mother. The movement was so strange on Mark. So unnatural. So angry.

 

Mark set his jaw, before ordering the woman. “Give her. To Milo.” 

 

Milo glanced over to his mother for the first time since this strange vision of his boyfriend entered the room. She looked… well, more nervous than he’d ever seen her. She was a witch, like most of his relatives so there wasn’t a lot that made her nervous, but this apparently did.  

 

She tried to shake it off, though, tipping her chin upwards in superiority and glaring in Mark’s direction. “Who are you to think that you can tell me what to…” 

 

“ _ Give her to Milo now _ .” And Milo could hear it, now. There was another voice speaking in sync with Mark. Directing him like a puppet. He wondered if Mark was even aware of what was happening.

 

That last threat seemed to do it. Though his mother was obviously reluctant, she did hand Jenn back to him. Milo took the now hysterical infant and, rising to his feet, quickly took the girl and ran from the room. He had the feeling that whatever Mark did to his mother now that she didn’t have Jenn to hide behind, he didn’t want to see it. He tugged the shirt she was wearing up and over her nose, trying to shield her from inhaling the smoke as they escaped. Milo had to step around burning piles of debris, the carpet, the railing was on fire. 

 

When he reached the bottom of the staircase he gave a sharp whistle, and Chica emerged from a smoke filled room.

 

“Come on.” he said, making sure the dog was following behind him, as he escaped with Jenn. 

 

Once outside, Milo could hear his mother sharply screaming. Ash and debris began to rain down from the second floor. Fire erupted from the windows. Milo hunkered down, shielding both his daughter and the dog, who seemed to be contemplating trying to get back into the house. He tightly gripped the scruff of her neck to keep her close, and waited for it to be over. 

 

By now the rest of the neighborhood was beginning to come out, moving to watch in shock and horror as they came out to see their livelihood burn. Once the screaming stopped, it seemed to go unnaturally silent. All he could hear was the crackling of the fire. Milo waited.

 

When it didn’t seem like Mark was coming out, Milo turned, seeing one of the neighbors, an elderly woman that Mark would occasionally talk to. Milo ran to her side.

 

His words failed him as he reached her, and all he could get out was : “I have to find Mark.” 

 

The woman nodded sagely, as she moved to take Jenn from his arms. “I’ll watch her, just you be careful.” 

 

Milo nodded, and carefully placed Jenn in her arms, before turning back towards the house. 

 

He didn’t get very far. From the flaming doorway, he saw a figure beginning to emerge. As the smoke lifted he finally saw Mark. Whatever this unholy presence was, it now seemed entirely lifted, and Mark stumbled, looking disoriented. Milo ran forward, grabbing Mark and tugging him to safety. Mark looked a damn mess, as he leant against Milo. He looked tired, confused. He was covered in dirt, smudges marring his cheeks and arms. Milo led him to sit in the grass, far enough away from the smoldering building that they wouldn’t get hurt. Chica was whimpering as she circled the two of them, trying to check up on her master. Milo wasn’t doing much better, frantic himself as he tried to wake Mark from the daze he’d apparently fallen into. 

 

It took a couple of minutes. The fire department had arrived by then, putting out various spot fires here and there. There was damage to the house, though it seemed it was still standing for now. Milo could have cared less about that right then. After a moment, the fog that had settled over Mark seemed to fade entirely and he blinked, looking to Milo for guidance.

 

“What happened?” Mark asked. Milo studied him for a moment.

 

“Well, first of all, don’t look behind you, whatever you do.” he said. “Secondly… I think you just killed my mother.” 

 

Mark’s eyes shot open wide. “What??” he demanded, and Milo shushed him gently. 

 

“Look, don’t worry about that.” Milo interrupted.

 

“You tell me I just killed your mother and in the next breath you tell me not to worry about it?” Mark asked. “I knew you and her weren’t close, but…” 

 

“I don’t really have the time to examine my own feelings too closely, you’re what’s important right now.” Milo told him. 

 

“What about…” Mark paused, looking between Milo and Chica. “Where’s Jenn?” He asked, worriedly. 

 

Milo gestured to the sidewalk, where the elderly woman was sweetly cooing at their little girl, still. Jenn didn’t exactly look comfortable with her, she was still pretty nervous around strangers, but she wasn’t screaming, either, so Milo figured that was a plus. 

 

“Okay.” Mark said softly, glancing up to Milo. “Go on.”

 

“Alright.” Milo said. “So what I would like, is for you to tell me, in great detail, or as great as you can, about the demon you apparently have attached to you.” He said.

 

Mark blinked. “Oh.” he said, and he glanced away, looking a little sheepish. “You know about Dark, now, huh?”

 

“It was kind of hard to miss, that whole summoning fire from nothing thing is a very demon thing to do.” Milo said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked to Mark.

 

Mark looked to him. “Is that what happened?” He asked, as he began to look behind him. But as Milo was trying to stave off another panic attack, Milo grabbed his shoulders and forced him to face him.

 

“In a sense, yes.” Milo said. “You called it Dark?”

 

Mark sighed. “Yeah, that’s like a… long story. I had this character, looks like me. And this… thing, whatever it is, it looks like me. I just started calling it Dark. Didn’t know what else to call it.” He said. 

 

“You never got its name.” Milo deduced.

 

“Yeah. He’s like you with the names.” Mark said, as he moved to rub at one of his eyes. He might have been having some kind of reaction to the smoke, or maybe gotten some of the ash in his eyes, Milo couldn’t tell. “Doesn’t want anyone to know his.”

 

“Smart.” Milo said, as he reached to pull Mark’s hand away from his eye, so he wouldn’t make things worse. “Unfortunately. It’ll make it hard to remove him.” 

 

“I…” Mark paused. “I think I did a bad thing.” Mark told him. “I don’t think I can remove him.”    
  


Milo narrowed his eyes at him. “Why do you say that?” He asked. 

 

“I… okay, this is a long story too.” Mark sighed, sinking back a little like he was going to just lay back on the grass and fall asleep. Or pass out. Milo gently caught him, pulling him up a bit, bracing his arm behind Mark’s back to help support him. 

 

“I’ve got time.” Milo said. 

 

“Well. Good.” Mark said. “Cause it’s a long story.” He said again. “Your mom tried to have me buried alive. I mean, you can kind of tell probably.” He said, and yeah, Milo could tell, even if the thought made his heart stutter in fear. There was dirt under his nails, in his hair, and dusted along his skin in patches. “And while I was laying there, waiting for the air to run out so I could painfully suffocate and the thing… the demon… the monster… look, okay promise you won’t get mad.”

 

Milo raised an eyebrow at that. “I promise no such thing.” 

 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Mark said, taking a deep breath. “So then Dark was like, I don’t know, I felt him behind me, which is weird by the way, there was barely room in the coffin for anything but me; and he said, give me control. And I thought about Jenn. And I thought about her being in the house, alone with your batshit mom, and I…” Mark looked to Milo, locked eyes with him. “I said yes.”

 

“Mark.” Milo chided.

 

“Okay, you promised…”

 

“I  _ said _ , I promise no such thing.” Milo reminded. 

 

Mark frowned a little, looking to Milo. “I… don’t actually know what happened after that. I have… flashes of memories. I know I dug myself out of the coffin. I know I startled some poor family at the cemetery. I remember teleporting here, and there was an earthquake or, something.” He said, frowning softly. “I killed your mother?” He asked.

 

Milo shrugged a little. “Maybe.” he said. “I took Jenn… didn’t stay to watch what you were going to do. I heard her screaming… I assumed you killed her but maybe you didn’t.” He set his jaw slightly. “And I don’t think I care enough to go check on her either.” He realized that if there was a body in that house still, the firefighters probably would have found it by now. So his mother had either run, or Mark had vaporized her, which honestly, Milo had no idea which was the more terrifying thought.

 

“Well why don’t…” Mark began to turn back to the house and paused, seeing what remained of the fire. “Holy shit.”

 

“Shit. Sorry.” Milo said, reaching out to turn Mark back around. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

 

“I did that??” Mark demanded. Milo shook his head. 

 

“I think technically the demon you gave permission to control you did that.” Milo said. 

 

Mark’s face fell. “I really fucked up.” he seemed to realize.

 

Milo looked to him. “No, Mark, you didn’t do anything.”    
  
“I didn’t have to let that thing take control…” He said.

 

“If you didn’t, you’d likely be dead by now.” Milo pointed out. “Instead you’re here. Mark you saved Jenn from my bitch of a mother.” Milo said. “I’m not happy about the demon thing. I don’t like that it can take advantage of you whenever it wants, but I’m not going to regret that you’re here, alive and… mostly okay.” He said. 

 

Mark gave him a look. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this. Remember the Hollywood sign?” He asked.

 

Milo made a face at that. “Are you sure you want to be discussing, in this public arena, the highly illegal thing we did by the Hollywood sign?” He hissed, under his breath.

 

“Yeah, because…” Mark took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “It’s been making me think. You know. The demons that followed us up there? The ones that possessed all the various animals?”

 

“Yes?” Milo asked. 

 

“You said they were better off dead.” Mark told him.

 

Oh.

 

“Mark, you are in no way equivalent to those animals, I would never take that logic and apply it to you, or any other human being.” he said. 

 

“But I mean. I still think about… what is this thing going to do to me? What is it going to make me do?” Mark asked. “Damien told me not to worry about it, then this thing turns around and possibly kills your mother. Maybe that logic does apply here, I don’t want it attached to me if it’s going to force me to do something I’d never want to do.” Mark said. “What about Jenn?” he continued. “Is it even safe for me to be around her, or am I going to hurt her too?” He asked. 

 

Mark grew quiet for a moment. “Should I go?” he asked. “Leave you to take care of Jenn while I figure this shit out?”

 

Milo knew the answer right away.

 

“Never.” Milo said, moving to tug the man into a tight hug.  “Mark, remember what you told me in hell?” He asked. 

 

Mark nodded softly. “That we’re a team now.” He said.

 

“That’s right.” Milo said. “Whatever happens, to either one of us, we face it together. No one gets left behind, because the one that’s left suffers.” Milo said. “So stay here, with me, and we’ll figure out a solution together.” 

 

“What if there isn’t a solution?” Mark asked.

 

“Then we’ll deal with that too.” Milo told him. “As long as we’re facing it together.” 

 

Mark smiled a little at that. “Well, in the meantime. What do we do about the house?” he asked, finally looking over his shoulder at the devastation.

 

Milo looked over too. “Well… it’s not really that bad.” He said. “We can fix the wall, the door. Looks like the fire’s mostly out.” He noted. “We should probably take Jenn to a hotel, though, she doesn’t need to be breathing all the smoke.” 

 

“Sounds good to me.” Mark said. “We probably shouldn’t be breathing it either.” 

 

Mark let Milo take his hands and pull him to his feet. Seeing that they were okay, the elderly woman finally came over, placing Jenn back into Mark’s arms. Right away the little girl clung to him and it drew a smile out of Mark. Milo just hoped that Mark could see why he needed to stay with them. It wasn’t just because of Milo’s wishes, it was for their daughter too.

 

They stood together, watching as the flames in their home were knocked down, one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out in time for Mark's birthday, but hurr hurr busy and whatever. I am in a stretch where I don't get days off right now, I'm either at work or school and it's like D: 
> 
> But you know
> 
> I'm so happy that I finished this! A weight has been lifted, ya'll. 
> 
> So I'm gonna jump right into the sequel for this one, lmao. It's not a direct sequel, because the next direct one dealing with a lot of the stuff that happens in this fic is going to take place about ten years later, and man. That's a lot of time to fill.
> 
> So the next one is gonna be focused on Mark and Virgil and their relationship. They just fucking fascinated me in this one. Made me think about what it would be like for the two of them to go off on some misadventure together. So the next one is going to be about them. And vampires. And a human trafficking ring. Hey, this is a story written by me guys. You knew the risks, lmao. I have 38 other fics (warnings) just like this one.
> 
> Also as a little side note: Mark's fire ability here. Technically, not his. He doesn't get to just take it out whenever, it's wholly dependent on the demon's mood. And as a forewarning.... the demon doesn't actually care about Mark. Mark is a means to an end for it. How is that gonna work out? Guess we'll see...
> 
> So Sequel coming up in a couple of weeks, don't have a good estimation for when, because like I said, I don't have off days anymore, so... It'll pop up when it pops up, lmao. If you're curious I'll be placing it in the Storm Warning Collection I created for this series.

**Author's Note:**

> You may have noticed that, yet again, I am taking Mark away from Los Angeles, lmao. I'm telling you guys, I hate Los Angeles like nothing else I've ever hated in my entire life. It is the most rancid, disgusting, frustrating, just the worst place to live, 99% of the time. Like I love how Mark's fans are the sweetest, most over-protective fans I've ever seen anyone have. Honestly, you guys are the best. But I feel like you guys worry about the wrong shit. And maybe it's just because I'm actually older than Mark by *cough* several *cough* years, but like. I can watch him get massively sick, threaten to eat a bunch of ghost peppers and then immediately get his wisdom teeth pulled and I'm okay with that. That's fine. I'm more worried about him living in Los Angeles. 
> 
> Now I know, everyone likes to tell me that I'm paranoid about my hatred of this city. That it's not really that bad. But no, allow me to correct you in the kindest way that I can, while simultaneously warning you away from the living dumpster fire that is Los Angeles. The last time I was in that city, I had to literally, drive through (and I believe my estimate at the time was) about two feet worth of garbage to get to my destination. And while I was wading my poor Tony (Yes my car's name is Tony, and he's Tony Stark in car form and also he devours the blood of other cars it's what he does) through the thick detritus, I saw an actual, honest to god pimp (huge jacket, decked out in purple and yellow, and fake fur, with a hat with a giant feather in it, being attended to by three obvious hookers) cross the road in front of my car. Now you may be thinking to yourself, 'Angie, what kind of fucking back alley were you driving through in order to get your drugs refilled?' Well HA joke's on you, because I was on Wilshire fucking Blvd, about a block away from the LA County Museum of Art. You know the fucking one, the one with that weird art installation that's just like, a ton of street lamps that is in every other movie and TV show. Let me tell you, I left the city that day, went straight to my doctor. They were like, "You're up to date on all of your vaccines already." And I was like, "You don't understand, I just drove through Los Angeles. Top me up, please." 
> 
> One time I was on the goddamned Hollywood walk of fame, talking to the Superman street character that occasionally appears on the _Jimmy Kimmel Show_ (Okay, I'm just realizing my life is a little bizarre.) We were just shooting the shit with him while he flirted up my friend and not too far away a dude got stabbed, everyone started running, and the cops showed up not too long after. All the while Superman's telling us we're safe, we're with Superman after all, and I was just like.... naw fam, we're good, and I made my friend leave with me. Nothing good comes out of Los Angeles, guys. 
> 
> THIS IS THE TOWN MARK IS LIVING IN GUYS. Learn to pick your battles, my friends. Point being, I am never ever going to set a fanfic in Los Angeles, and I will probably worry about him until he leaves there for good. Everything else, I am totally fine with. 
> 
> Also, this fanfic now also has it's own playlist [here.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLe3LomlisX1Js7AyRM87n1grdrRmZm7v1) It's a little spoilery, but if you look, you may be noticing a theme, here. Also, you know shit's about to get real when I start breaking out the folk metal, ya'll. 
> 
> Guess that's all I want to rant about currently. See you all in chapter 2 eventually.


End file.
